Livewire
by Shadowolf27
Summary: Not all of Wheeljack's inventions end in spectacular explosions. Sometimes they work, only with a few side effects...such as bringing a human back from the dead. It's a good thing Perceptor is willing to help the avid engineer and keep all subsequent damages to a minimum. Life restart. - G1/mixverse.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** The plot bunnies are going after my poor Muse like attack dogs. I have two other fics I'm working on, yet I couldn't pass up writing this one. It may even turn into a two part fic according to my pile of notes. As promised in the summary I'll be throwing in ridiculous (in character) fluff situations whenever possible/appropriate. Romance will come later, possibly in the second arch with a mech not mentioned in this chapter...

Updates may be sporadic thanks to school and my other two fics.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers.

**Livewire**

**By Shadowolf27**

* * *

A squeal of collapsing metal made Wheeljack cringe and turn sharply to throw a pointed glare at Bluestreak. The smaller grey painted mech's hands were cast into the air, optics wide as he helplessly watched a tapering trickle of wire shavings and miscellaneous parts bounce to the floor. The last piece to fall was a gear that clattered to the ground and rolled onto Perceptor foot, he picked it up for a passive inspection as Bluestreak timidly inched away from the toppled pile.

"Be careful! Some of that equipment is fragile," Wheeljack barked, his head fins flashing brightly.

Bluestreak's door wings collapsed down his spinal strut and he lowered his head in shame. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just trying to move this generator someplace I wouldn't trip on it, but it was heavier than I thought, throwing me off balance, and I accidentally bumped into the mountain of parts."

Wheeljack managed to look offended by the grotesque description of his once neatly stacked joint cogs.

"It's quite alright." Though he was addressing Bluestreak, Perceptor threw Wheeljack an admonishing look to which the engineer turned his back on and returned to untangling and sorting a ball of wires. "If he didn't want sensitive equipment to be broken he wouldn't have stacked it as such."

"There's nothing wrong with my workspace," Wheeljack grumbled while pulling free a blue strip of wire.

"Red Alert believes differently, he's practically condemned this room," Perceptor placed the small gear he still held into a drawer of similar parts and looked over at Wheeljack's stiff back. "Even Optimus agreed with him this time, and honestly, I must as well."

Wheeljack ground his denta plates that were hidden behind his blast mask. "They're just overreacting-threatening to shut down my lab, are they mad?! It's my space! Haven't I earned the right to live how I like?"

Perceptor smiled knowingly. "Don't worry, Bluestreak and I won't let your lab be shut-down. It's why we volunteered to help."

Wheeljack looked over his shoulder and wilted at the sight of the Perceptor and Bluestreak standing amongst scattered piles of mechanical parts and half-finished projects that stacked over their heads in several places. It was notable that Perceptor was a rather tall mech, only a few feet shorter than Optimus. The floor was in a similar state, pathways had been made so Wheeljack could access all of his neatly stacked mounds of goods. He could get to everything and knew where every bolt and wire was, in general. His lab was perfectly functional.

Bluestreak beamed at Wheeljack, and in hopes of cheering him up by finishing the clean-up faster, he picked up a box overflowing with internal parts for wrist joints with the intention of moving them across the room. He made it about halfway before stepping on a piece of rogue tubing that he hadn't been able to see past the large package and lost his footing. The other two Autobots visibly cringed at the loud clangs that followed the toppled container of spare parts, dumping all of its contents onto the grey Autobot.

Wheeljack and Perceptor quickly helped a now flustered Bluestreak to his feet. Wheeljack looked down at the mess as Bluestreak rapidly tried to relocate everything he had lost with Wheeljack's and Perceptor's help. Some of the pieces had rolled into surrounding piles, disappearing between gaps and crevices of thousands of other parts. Perhaps his happy mess had gotten just a little out of hand.

"I'm sorry- I'm just trying to help. I didn't mean to make everything worse by dropping the whole box. Now we'll never be able to find those parts."

Wheeljack waved a coiled spring in front of Bluestreak to silence the mech before he could launch into an undeserved, long winded apology. "Don't sweat it." He glanced at Perceptor. "And, thank you," he said sincerely to the two of them. Wheeljack was certain he wouldn't have been able to clean the entire room in two days on his own.

"Happy to help," Bluestreak piqued while carefully putting the box down near where he had originally intended to place it. "This definitely beats patrol duty. It gets lonely when there's no one around to talk to but the trees and squirrels. Earth's wildlife isn't really known for being conversationalists, except humans of course."

Wheeljack wasn't sure if Bluestreak had made his first ever sarcastic joke in an attempt to make him feel better, or if he was being one-hundred percent serious. Sadly, knowing Bluestreak, it could even be a mix a both.

Perceptor hauled a heavy, gutted piece of machinery off the top of a stack and began hauling it to a corner. "Come on you two, this mess won't clean itself."

The three Autobots worked in methodical silence, pinging silent inquiries as to where Wheeljack wanted certain things over a wireless connection. It was why, after several hours of the constructive routine, that Bluestreak's squeal of surprise made the other two bots jump.

"What is that?!" Bluestreak vented rapidly. He leaned back on his pedes as if ready to bolt away at a moments notice and pointed into a combed back pile of parts.

Wheeljack and Perceptor dropped what they were doing and approached curiously.

"Well, what have we found here?" Perceptor leaned over the smaller mech and scanned over the face of the lopsided mound. The most intrusive thing he could conclude that had startled Bluestreak was a partially exposed body of a mechanical creature that hung limply to the side with darkened optics and a badly chipped paint job. It had a large wolfish head with a stiff pointed ear flopped over one of its optics. The other ear was broken and hanging on by only a wire.

"I-is it dead?" Bluestreak whispered with unrestrained horror.

Wheeljack chuckled. "Of course not- it was never alive to begin with." He began pulling out bits of scrap and threw them on the floor without care to reveal more of the body. "I almost forgot about this old thing."

Perceptor canted his head as he studied the scratched and neglected body. "Is this the chameleon sabotage unit we worked on five years ago? Or was it longer, it was some time ago."

Wheeljack flexed an exposed leg joint and nodded. "She's the one. We never finished her since shortly after starting the Decepticons began rapidly making weapons that we needed counters to. I actually forgot about this project."

Bluestreak leaned in for a closer look. "What is it for?" he asked with curiosity. Now that he knew it wasn't going to come to life and try to eat him at any moment, he thought it actually looked kind of cute with the way its ear was flopped over and its body was slouched.

"Remember Nightbird?"

Perceptor and Bluestreak nodded in tandem, recalling all too well the femme ninja bot Dr. Fujiyama had built. The human crafted, non sentient bot had been tampered with by Decepticons and set loose on the Autobot base. They had to capture it without causing damage to the drone due to a promise Optimus had made to the Doctor long before the incident. The slippery ninja had proven to be more of a pain in their backside to catch than they could have ever imagined. Even when Ironhide had cracked from frustration and shot at the thing, he was still the only one who came out with scorch marks and slashed armor.

Wheeljack continued, "Perceptor and I started building this little gal afterwards. It's obviously not a ninja, but I noticed how Nightbird was pretty stealthy when she wanted to be. At the time we had been trying to come up with something to aid in recon, like what Ravage is to the Decepticons. Mirage is only 'Bot we have who can do the job and I thought having another stealthy ear would be useful. Nightbird just became to the catalyst for us to put our blueprints to use."

Bluestreak touched the jagged, swept back shoulder armor that roughly resembled fur. "Ravage looks like an earth feline, and Nightbird was a ninja. Why is this one a dog?"

Wheeljack shooed Bluestreak's curious hand away from the shoulder joint. "Why would I want to make an exact copy of an existing design? Nothing evolves or advances in functionality if you don't expand your boundaries. Her design is based off of Earth's gray wolves: Sturdy, intelligent, loyal, has sharp senses, and most importantly, is naturally stealthy.

Perceptor held a finger up and added in explanation, "We're surrounded by forests all the time, the perfect habitat for a wolf to remain undetected in. The same methods could also be applied to cities or an urban landscape. There are a lot of alley ways and buildings that can serve the same purpose as trees shrubs, to hide while staying within close proximity to the enemy without them ever knowing."

Bluestreak's optics lit up with interest. "How come you never finished it? I mean, I know you said it was the Decepticons, but they haven't been coming up with anything new lately. Why don't you finish it?"

Wheeljack placed a hand under his chin and tilted his head in thought. "Well, we got her to activate once, but she never followed commands right. Acted like a dumb drone, unable to do anything but run forwards until it jarred its processor into a forced reboot after ramming into a wall. One time she wouldn't stop running in circles."

"You did, you mean. I don't remember ever making it to the activation stage," Perceptor interjected and Wheeljack shrugged in a mild affirmative.

Bluestreak leaned forwards again and ran his hand across the fully attached ear. "Do you still think it's impossible to make it work? I think a ninja dog would be pretty neat."

"Not a ninja and not a dog. Weren't you listening?" Wheejack barely registered his verbal defense of his project when his optics brightened and a hidden grin turned them upwards. "You know what, dig her out and put her over there. I'll see what I can do after we finish cleaning up. I think I know just what will fix her up."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Perceptor warned. "The last time you tried to constitute an ally all of us wound up biting off more than we could chew. The Dinobots are powerful, but never listen. This program you're talking about would have to be able to follow very specific instructions to be able to perform its function correctly. Knowing what we do now, and Prime's strict orders to not create anymore artificial life, I don't think it's such a good idea."

Wheeljack only grinned more, making Perceptor frown- he knew that look.

"Don't worry about it. I won't give her an artificial spark, and this one will be different; I can feel it."

* * *

Carrie sipped at her coffee, relishing in the bitter taste as it scolded her tongue and slid warmly down her throat. It did wonders on her pounding head and fatigued disposition that was exasperated by her bad morning. First thing, she had woken up to get the previous day's mail only to find her mail box had been smashed by some bored teenagers in the middle of the night. Then right before leaving for work she noticed the phone's messaging system blinking and listened to a recording from her boss demanding she fill in for a shift over the upcoming weekend - one that she was supposed to have off. Lastly, her ever humorous boss had walked by not even ten minutes ago to dump a stack of papers as thick as both her arms combined on her desk with the intention of having them sorted before lunch time on top of her real job.

Carrie stared blankly at her computer's desktop, leaning on the back two legs of her chair, coffee mug in hand in a miffed stupor. She was going to at least enjoy her cup-of-joe and wake up a little more before tackling anything else that morning.

"Hey, Carrie?" The harsh whisper made her look up in annoyance.

"Did he give you a stack of papers, too?" Marissa, the coworker in the next door cubical leaned over the pastel blue wall to ask. Her glasses were sliding down her face and she was scrunching her nose in a way that made her look like an angry pig in her attempt to keep them from falling.

Carrie looked pointedly at the stack on her desk then glared wordlessly back up at her.

"Oh, crap, yours is even bigger than mine!" Marissa lurched forwards to catch her rapidly slipping glasses and push them back into place." I think the boss' secretary quit yesterday or something, but that doesn't make any sense when people are supposed to give a two weeks notice."

"This surprises you?" Carrie deadpanned and took another sip of her cooling coffee.

"Well, yeah. She's been around forever."

A rolled up - well used booklet of _HTML for Dummies_ swatted Marissa over the head with a heavy _thunk_. "Hey, more working, less chatting! Carrie, sit up in your chair like a respectable person!"

Marissa disappeared behind her wall so fast she was a blur and Carrie begrudgingly sat up under the demand of the floor director.

"You're not my mother," was Carrie's snarky reply when he was out of ear shot.

With a quiet contempt for her annoying higher ups, she put down her mostly finished coffee and opened a saved set of windows she had been working on the day before. Her job, like most everyone else on her floor, was as a computer programmer. She tried to like her job, really she did. Programing had entertained her as a teenager and she had perused it through college, but it wasn't enjoyable anymore, it was just work. Every day was a slug fest of numbers - correcting the same poorly coded program and its myriad of mistakes for the hundredth time before the servers crashed again.

There were only so many times she could correct the same freezing issue within a month before throwing her hands up in exasperation. It wasn't that her mediocre skills were inefficient; it was that the old, cheap systems the little company used kept glitching like it had a mind of its own. Almost as if it were fed up with the rough treatment it had been subjected to over the years.

Carrie toiled away at fixing a broken link and stopped a near total systems freeze until closing time where she stopped to kneed her temples and suppress the urge to burn her computer with her mind. Oh, if only she could burn things with her mind. It would make all the annoying things in life go away so much faster. She could glare at rampaging teenagers - instant combustion. Glare at the phone - instant incineration. What call, she didn't get a call that morning, because she no longer had a phone!

A hand patted her arm and Carrie up without trying to conceal her irritated look and met Marissa's lopsided smile. "A bunch of us are going to stop by for Mexican on the way out. Want to come?"

Carrie tried to school her annoyance; she begrudgingly reminded herself it wasn't meant to be aimed at Marissa. The woman hadn't broken her mail box or sabotaged the online system. "No thanks, I think I'm just going to go home and pass out."

Marissa waved her off, used to Carrie hardly ever accepting the offer. It was then Carrie realized it had actually been a while since she had been asked to join anything her coworkers were doing after work.

"Ok, see you tomorrow, then," Marissa said while slipping out the door. Carrie wasn't sure if she kept asking her out of pity, or felt if she obligated since she practically lived in the cubical next to her. Carrie wrinkled her nose in near mirror image of Marissa earlier that day and grabbed her belongings.

In the parking lot Carrie put her keys in the ignition and pulled out into the busy street lot with blurry eyes strained from staring at the computer all day, again. If she kept this up she might have to get glasses in a couple years, or contacts. She couldn't imagine herself wearing glasses.

A car piled with her coworkers passed in front of her beat up Volvo and turned into a strip center that she continued past. Carrie glanced at them in the rear view mirror and a small part of her wished she was with them. None of them were really her friends, just faces she knew the name to, and she often felt like a third wheel. Carrie was that one weird chick who always sat in the back, quietly sipped her drink while listening to everyone else's conversations. It was easy for others to forget she was there, until someone looked her way and shrank away from her intense staring.

It wasn't her fault, most of the time she was just mentally zonked out from boredom because no one was talking to her. She didn't mean to occasionally stare down the person across from her like she was contemplating making them her next meal. That uncomfortable feeling of not belonging and being a horrible conversation starter had always driven her away from group functions. At the end of the day her brain needed restful solitude anyway, not a tense, awkward outing that would fritz her already strained patience.

Though, she knew whenever she got home she would open her door, throw down her keys, and already be wishing she was with her coworkers instead of at her small, one bedroom apartment. There wasn't anything to go home to after work, a job she was slowly beginning to hate. There was no one waiting to greet her or to have dinner with - she had never even had a boyfriend. It would just be her, the couch, and some nuked chicken with lettuce thrown on the side. Sometimes she felt like her own worst enemy.

Carrie momentarily thought of contacting her parents later that night, but she hadn't done that in a couple of years. She squirmed in her seat just thinking of the awkward, mechanical conversation of 'hey, how are you doing?' Followed by, 'I'm fine, how are you?'

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost blew a red light. The Volvo lurched to a stop in her haste to break, and without caring who saw her; Carrie banged her head on the steering wheel and silently promised herself a pity party whenever she got home. Maybe she would even crack out the ice cream.

A honk from an irritated driver signaled her green light. She automatically pushed her foot on the gas to roll out into the intersection with an irritated grumble, but that was cut short when something very fast and very _large_ smashed into the driver's side. Carrie barely registered the eighteen-wheeler that had just run a red light before pain exploded throughout her body; then everything went silent.

* * *

**Initiating start up program…**

**System update complete…**

Her body whirred like a warming computer that protested coming online or own body after only two hours of sleep. Her vision came in a blurry wave and adjusted to meet a metal floor and a white wall stripped with horribly clashing green and red stripes that refused to stop moving.

Something was prodding at her back, but she could barely feel it, like it was being done through a thick blanket.

"Not very responsive," A British accented voice hummed and lifted her back foot and tail in turn. "Outside stimuli doesn't appear to be affecting it."

"Give her a minute. It'll work this time, I just know it," The white wall in front of her rumbled and bent downwards.

A masked face and glowing blue orbs filled her vision, and still Carrie didn't so much as twitch.

"What makes you so certain?" The other voice inquired skeptically.

"A hunch," the extended ears of the metal face in front of her flashed blindingly as he spoke. He reached out a hand to rub behind her metallic head, a feeling she found pleasant and instinctively leaned into.

"There we go, that a girl. Come on," the being in front of her gently coaxed.

It was at that moment that everything came flooding back like a switch being flipped; her job, her coworkers, her pity party that never happened - the wreck that had killed her. Carrie jerked away from the robotic creature in front of her, fright and confusion coloring her face. She scrambled to get to her feet, but slipped on a slick metal surface with unfamiliar footing. She tumbled over the side of a raised table with a loud crash and a surprised metallic yip.

She froze from where she laid on the metal floor, panting in a rush of air that seemed to flow into her from everywhere at once, but not actually flowing down her throat - the feeling, alien.

She should have been dead, that eighteen-wheeler had crushed her car like it was scrap in a monster rally. This place didn't look like a hospital - the only other logical place to wake up in other than a morgue after what happened - but something similar to a mechanic's shop. Carrie tilted her head upwards, a movement that felt more weighted than what she was used to and was accompanied by a burst of numbers telling her just how many degrees her head was turning.

A metal man, or a giant robot, bent down over her and she could see another, taller red one hovering in the background.

"Would you look at that," the white robot before her chuckled happily. "I do believe the word humans use is: eureka! She's online." His baby blue optics brightened and the mask on his face scrunched slightly upwards.

Carrie looked away from the blinding things flashing on the side of the robot's head, but refused to take her eyes completely off the metal man. Perhaps this was all just a dream related to too much time in front of the computer. Maybe she did have that pity party and a surplus of ice cream had sent her sleeping mind into hyper drive, imagining a car wreck that felt like her entire life barreling down at her and waking up to robots – walking, talking computers that could code themselves and leave her to her morning coffee. That must have been it; all of her hate for her life and inner dreams was coming true in one twisted dream.

"Ok, Livewire, now look into this light."

A light pen was rudely shined in her eye, but it didn't make her squint or jerk away in pain. This must have been another hallucination. Her coworker a few cubicles down liked to blind anyone who stood up with his laser pen. This must have been him in her dream.

An annoyed snarl ripped from her throat as she watched the weaving light and wondered if she could make it, and the hand that held it, blow up with her mind - it was her dream after all.

"Optical sensors are correctly calibrated…Can you stand up, Livewire? I need to test your motor functions."

She canted her head, a strange weight on top of it perking upwards, and narrowed her eyes in disappointment. Why wasn't he blowing up, and why was he calling her Livewire? Carrie didn't want to follow his orders, but she didn't want to be lying on the floor either. She stood, or tried to. Her arms and legs flailed, unable to stand up on two feet.

Carrie looked down to see why her limbs weren't responding, and instead discovered a set of metal paws stretched out at her side. One leg raised into the air the same instant she willed her arm to move. She started and tried to jerk away, but only lurched a couple feet off the ground before stumbling in a mass of confused, tangled limbs.

A noise akin to someone clicking their tongue, but tinged with a metallic twang, came from above her. "Think about what you're going to do before you do it." The tall red mech urged, his words flowing softly with a British accent.

She gawked at him; there wasn't anyone she knew who was even _remotely_ British. This dream was too weird, one foot in the loony bin. Instead of thinking about going crazy, she did as the robot said and thought about standing up on four legs and took a few steps away from them. Her legs felt strong, yet lanky, like those of a long distance runner, and a weighted tail hovered aloft from her rump.

She turned her head around and would have blinked if she could have at the thick, dark purple, all metal appendage that swished behind her on flexible joints that allowed it to move freely side to side or up and down. It bristled with raised bits of metal that swept backwards along the top portion. The underside was varying patches of gray, or white that served to give her canine form symmetry.

"What…am I?" She finally asked. Her voice didn't sound anything like her hers as the words slipped out through powerful, elongated jaws lined with large teeth in a quiet, scared voice.

The two mechs looked at each other and the white one's head fins flashed to an eloquent, "Oh, crap."

"You said it wouldn't be self-aware!" The red mech exploded, albeit in a restrained raised voice that still held immense control. Even so, it contained enough ferocity to cause the white mech to haunch his shoulders defensively. "What did you add without telling me?"

"Nothing major…I never installed a personality core. She doesn't even have a proper artificial spark!" The white painted mech defended. "Just, hold on a click. We don't know if Livewire really _is_ self-aware. It could be one of the twin's jokes; they could have set her up to question her awareness upon activation."

The red mech looked dubious as the white one bent down in front of Carrie again. She shied away, uncomfortable around these large, bickering mechs who thought she shouldn't be able to recognize who she was. This was definitely not a dream.

"You are Livewire, Perceptor and I's most recent invention," he addressed her before waiting nervously.

Carrie stared at the robot as if he had grown two heads. "I'm not a science project," she hissed. "What the hell did you do to me, and what are you?"

"I'm Wheeljack," the mech pointed his thumb back at himself and seemed to be incapable of elaborating further, so he pointed to the mech standing behind him. "And that's Perceptor."

Perceptor met her gaze and opened his mouth slowly, "Oh, dear."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Transformers.

* * *

Livewire: Chapter 2

"_This…is not a dream."_

Carrie stared vacantly at her metallic paws, lying curled up, and still as a statue under the work bench she originally woke up on. Her head was craned upwards as far as the enclosed space allowed, and her ears were perked in alertness, stiff and immobile even as Wheeljack and Perceptor occasionally made scrapes and clangs as they moved about the lab.

The beings worked on various parts to an incomplete project. They seldom spoke, seeming to already know what the other needed at intermittent times. Their voices were hushed and tended to tail off distractedly. Perceptor was mostly glued to a large monitor while Wheeljack wired or soldered equipment. They would glance at Carrie often, their glowing optics curious, but they continued to honor her plea to be left alone to think.

It was a small mercy Carrie was thankful for while her mind felt scrambled, and not just because of her bizarre predicament that no one but her seemed privy to. It was like someone had hit her over the head too hard, leaving her temporarily with only bits and pieces of her memories. Her life was coming back in a slow trickle, working backwards from her most previous experiences and shifting into her oldest ones.

Her mind sorted itself of its own volition, downloading as if from an outside source, placing memories into a mental databank she could pull up at will. They were blurry, like most memories were; muddied by time to where only an emotional response to an idea remained. Very few had pictures she could physically draw up, such as the faces of her parents or the layout of her apartment. Amongst the mess, she mulled over her last moments of being human.

She couldn't recall what she had eaten for breakfast that day, or what she had done at work. Her most recent memories were mostly a blur shadows mixed with annoyance and shock. The latter emotion was tied to an impending death that she knew was coming, but couldn't stop. Carrie wasn't entirely sure she had died. The impact had been too quick — she couldn't recall feeling any pain. All she could tangibly remember was a loud screech, and a swirl of grey and black making up the silhouette of a large vehicle before losing conscience. It was too dream-like, just as waking up disoriented and in the body of a mechanical dog – _wolf _was.

Her funnel ears twitched at the word, _wolf_. Intrusive blurbs of information she didn't know the origin of kept pushing to the front of her thoughts, correcting her the same way as if she had call someone John before stumbling at remembering their name was Joe. It was disquieting that something that felt detached from her, yet still perfectly in synch with her thoughts was thoroughly convinced that she was lupine when, for all she knew, her body was a cat. She hadn't seen her new body in a mirror yet.

Maybe her mind might have been more messed up than she thought. She might have always been this way, and her human self was a crazy, intensive dream induced by bad food or an extra hard bludgeon to the head. It didn't help that the robots were familiar in a way that she couldn't place into words. Their existence nagged at her quickly sorting memories.

Something beyond the blurbs of information that agreed her current form was right, clawed its way from the pit of her stomach, overriding the mechanical logic with fierce denial. No, she was human, this wasn't normal, and she shouldn't be alive right now.

It led Carrie to wonder how long it had been since she died. Her thought of the day and time initiated a blinking set of zeros to flash at the edge of her vision. It startled her as much as various other bits of information that would occasionally pop-up. With a mere thought, numbers, charts, or calculations would dance across her vision as if eager to provide her with information. None of it had the ability to answer her questions; all of the data was wiped like a brand new computer with no information to go on but its basic programing and her own personal knowledge.

She was so focused on the blinking zeros, and her own thoughts, that she didn't notice one of the mechs approach and bend down to her level, casting a large shadow over her hiding spot.

"Come on now, you've been sulking long enough. I need to run a cognitive diagnostic scan now that you're online."

Carrie snapped her head to the side so quickly she cracked her snout against the partially enclosed underside of the bench. Her vision lurched, fritzing a moment as an uncomfortable throb of tendrils spread over the impact point. A whine escaped her, more out of being startled than in response to the strange bruising sensation.

Perceptor smiled broadly. "I apologize. I should have been clearer in my approach. You appear to be suffering from a form hyper stimulation. It could be a program malfunction. Don't worry; we'll get that fixed during the scan."

Carrie's yellow optics brightened and her ears pinned back. The two robots had wanted to perform a scan on her when she first woke up, and tried to plug multiple cords extending from a large machine into her frame. Just the thought of it was invasive and made her internally squirm, and the prongs on the ends of the cords looked deceptively like needles.

She wasn't a device or a, a computer to be abused by programmers, or a science project; she was a human being with rights - but, the second consciousness slipped in, using her own inner voice to state she was, indeed, a machine.

"Hang on, I got this." Wheeljack crouched next to Perceptor and his added girth made the space in front of her feel less like a window into the cluttered work room, and more like a cage.

"You have an idea?" Perceptor inquired, taking a step back so Wheeljack could proceed.

"Yep," Wheeljack stated confidently with a flash of his ear fins.

He reached into the crawl space and Carrie ducked her head with flattened ears as she warily watched his outstretched hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Perceptor warned.

"Why not?" The same moment he asked, Wheeljack tried to grab her behind the neck. Carrie reached up and snapped her jaws shut around the underside of his arm, sinking her metal teeth into the white armor.

Wheeljack flailed with a cry of surprise, banging his arm against the underside of the bench with Carrie still attached. She didn't let go until he jerked away, and she curled back under the table, hunched on her front legs, growling in warning.

Wheeljack stumbled to his pedes and looked at the dimpled metal with shock.

"That's why," Perceptor softly reprimanded as he grabbed Wheeljack's arm and turned it over for inspection. "The damage is superficial. She only caught the edge of your armor and didn't actually pierce it."

"Yes, I can see that. Thanks," Wheeljack clipped and pulled away. "I don't get why she's being so aggressive."

Perceptor placed his hands on his hips and observed Carrie with a focused, yet far off look. "True, it's odd that she's viewing us as a threat. We haven't made any threatening gestures, and I programed her to recognize Autobots as allies."

The red mech had said something that sparked recognition in her memories, if only vaguely. Her shoulders dropped, and she unconsciously switched from an aggressive stance to a pensive one. _Autobots_, why did that word strike her as so familiar? It's meaning was on the tip of her tongue, but just out of reach.

"This could work." Perceptor pulled something out of a shifting compartment in his side and cautiously approached her.

"Livewire, if you'll be a good girl and come out, I'll give you this energon stick. It doesn't contain near as much energy as a cube, but the Dinobots tend to favor them."

Carrie turned her nose away from the offensive pink glow stick being waved in her face. It had a sweet and sour sent mixed with something acrid, it was an artificial combination that made her tanks churn. He presented it to her again, shoving it closer. His movement caused light from the room to gloss over a red symbol that blended with the color of his chest, save for an outline, one that resembled a mask. A spark of recognition struck Carrie like lightning, and an important connection threaded itself together in her memories.

These two 'robots' were Autobots, sentient beings from outer space that had been living on Earth since before she was born. They were always on the news, involved in everything related to military or politics. She would usually flip the channel when a big red and blue one came on, Optimus Prime. He was always explaining how the Autobots and humanity should work together, or was apologizing for some mess they had made while defending human resources from the Decepticons. She couldn't believe she had forgotten.

"You're Autobots," she said with disbelief.

Perceptor smiled, pleased at her realization. "Correct, and you're an Autobot as well. We fight against the tyrannical Decepticons while protecting the humans of this planet. Can you tell me what your function is?"

Perceptor placed the forgotten glow stick by her paws as she looked between the two Autobots, trying to remember if she had seen them before. She knew a few faces and names from the news, but neither of these transformers were familiar to her. She was so caught up in searching her new data banks for Autobots that she almost missed his last question.

"No," she replied soberly. What did they even mean by a function, her job?

"Strange, maybe her programs didn't come on all at once." Wheeljack commented.

Perceptor added, "Livewire could be experiencing a delayed upload effect caused by impulse confusion during her first time forming neural pathways. Or do you think there could be an over sensitive firewall?"

Perceptor backed away to stand next to Wheeljack when Carrie blurted, "Why are you calling me Livewire?"

"Because it's your designation. I came up with it myself," Wheeljack said proudly.

The way he beamed at her should have been unnerving, but he looked genuinely happy about the menial detail, like a kid naming their puppy. It was an odd name, but all of the transformers tended to have strange designations. It didn't particularly bother her that she wasn't being called by her real name, but it was disturbing that the two Autobots seemed utterly convinced that she was something they built.

She scowled, mentally scolding herself for getting caught up over a name. She didn't care what she was being called; she wanted to know what was going on and how she turned out, like this.

"Will you come out now? I really need to run a check on your systems to make sure everything is working correctly," Wheeljack pleaded.

Carrie steeled herself with a deep breath and exhaled hot air out from under her shoulder armor. She shuddered as the air brushed against her sides and reminded herself that they were Autobots, the good guys. All of her history classes painted them in a positive light with almost super hero qualities, like a real life Justice League. In grade school, Carrie used to watch the news and cheer on the Autobots as they fought the Decepticons.

She came out slowly, commanding her limbs to move, thinking about where she wanted to place her paws upon the metal floor. The flexing claws connect with the ground, clicking softly. Her movements still felt wobbly, like the floor wasn't sitting right. It didn't help that her back legs were bent at an odd angle, drastically changing her perception of movement.

"Her equilibrium stabilizer doesn't seem to be calibrated correctly," Perceptor commented as the two Autobots converged on her.

Carrie's ears flattened and her tail fell. She took a small step back before stilling, and allowed them to touch her. A phrase popped into her head as their hands ran over her, one of Optimus' most coined phrases. _Freedom is the right of all sentient beings._ They wouldn't do anything bad to her, they were the good guys.

Wheeljack applied pressure to her back stilling Carrie with his hand. She hadn't realized she was swaying nervously on her paws. "Try not to move."

She stayed still as a statue, or as still as she could. The floor looked like it was tilting a little further. Without permeable, Perceptor plugged a small device into the back of her neck, and an invasive feeling poked at her conscience. Something trickled through her mind, barriers she didn't know she had fell away in its wake like an opening dam. It was strange, but not uncomfortable.

"Alright, I'm in," Perceptor announced. "Livewire, lift your foot and put it on top of Wheeljack's."

She complied, lifting her paw and placing it on the floor near Wheeljack's pede. Strange, she could have sworn she was right on target.

"Off by .556." Wheeljack commented.

Perceptor calibrated again and asked her to repeat the action. This time she connected with Wheeljack's pede with a soft clink, and the floor didn't look like it was leaning anymore.

"Very good," Wheeljack praised, and Carrie couldn't help but feel a small measure of accomplishment.

Perceptor released the device from her neck and studied a small screen attached to it. "All of the programing appears intact, including defense protocols. I also managed to set her internal readouts and chronometer. The only irregularity I can see is the memory chip fluctuating at an odd rate, but it should be nothing to worry about."

"It might be the source of her slow reboot," Wheejack added.

Perceptor looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps, but either way it's slowly kicking in. I would just check in a few joors to make sure it has stabilized properly. It won't do if her memory banks fail to file new information or accidentally begins erasing older ones."

Carrie was about to protest her head was fine, but Wheeljack suddenly stood at attention, shifting his focus on the door on the far end of the room.

"Powerglide's coming." Wheeljack swiftly looked to Perceptor with brightening optics. "We've gotta' hide her!"

Perceptor jumped into action, waving her backwards with his hands while looking over his shoulder. "Quickly, get back under the work bench."

Carrie swiveled her head around his large girth to see where Wheeljack was going. Her rear end bumped into the wall under the bench, and Perceptor shoved a large machine in front of her hiding spot, blocking her from site.

Perplexed, Carrie stuck her nose through a crack between the machine and table leg as Perceptor joined Wheeljack. She could barely make out their backs as an automatic door swished open before them. She did not appreciate being trapped, but was more worried about what had spoked them.

"Oh, Perceptor's here," A new, disappointed voice echoed from the entrance.

"Indeed, I am," Perceptor smiled broadly. "Wheeljack and I were working on a molecular transmogrifier. Would you like to help us test it out?"

"Uh, no thanks."

"What brings you here, Powerglide?" Wheeljack warmly greeted while stepping aside to allow the new mech into the lab.

Powerglide stepped into Carrie's view with slumped shoulders. Numerous dents and bits of loose dirt were smeared over his red and white frame. He looked vaguely familiar. "That turbo tweak you made to my engines keeps over compensating. If I try to bank left, I wind up going into a spin. If I try to bank right and _up-_" he drifted into a desperate octave. "I somehow turn a one-eighty, at a speed that isn't healthy to my frame, and nose dive into the ground."

"Alright, alright," Wheeljack said hastily. "Come over here and we'll find out what's wrong."

He began sweeping scattered components off a metal table and into his arms, depositing the parts on one of the nearby benches.

Perceptor stood next to Powerglide, staring at the ceiling but not actually seeing it. "A string of programing may be over calculating the amount of thrust you need to perform micro managed movement, or isn't factoring your frame weight or speed counters correctly. If we tweak the code to-"

"Perceptor, please. Spare me the science mumbo-jumbo."

Perceptor looked down at Powerglide as if coming out of a daze. "My apologies. I work best when I think aloud. I'm afraid I'm an auditory learner."

"That doesn't make any—actually, never mind." Powerglide perched on the edge of the now clean berth as Wheeljack fiddled something.

"I need you to lie down for a minute. This shouldn't take very long." Powerglide complied, lying flat on his back so Wheeljack could plug him into a handheld that wirelessly transmitted to the monitor on the wall.

"Send your latest flight logs, everything from takeoff to landing." Wheeljack prompted.

The screen blipped to life, displaying a scrolling, chronological log of numbers that Wheeljack and Perceptor leaned towards to study with scanning optics.

"There." Wheeljack paused the download and pointed to a line Carrie could only partially understand, they were readouts of some kind.

Wheeljack then pointed to the line above and trailed his finger across the string of code as if reading an open book. "We'll, something is definitely making it squirt out more fuel than needed."

"Great, tell me something I don't know-" Powerglide cut off with a mechanical squeal of surprise that grated on Carries sensitive audials as Perceptor prodded one of the twin engines mounted to his wings.

He pulled hand back with specs of a congealed blue substance decorating his servos. "You're also leaking fuel. We should check for a line rupture before making any further tweaks."

"Great," Powerglide grumbled. "And will you warn me next time? I'm not used to mechs prodding around my innards."

"Noted," Perceptor replied dully.

Wheeljack began examining the opposite thruster and the bent wing it was attached to with interest. "What were you doing, by the way? To my knowledge there hasn't been any 'Con activity."

Powerglide turned his head so he wasn't looking at either of the Autobots and unknowingly stared straight at Carries hiding spot. "Nothing important."

She may not have thought there was a reason to hide, but after pensively watching the odd check-up, the idea of suddenly being found sent her fuel pump rate skyrocketing. When he looked at her, she sprang upwards in fright, ready to flee, and banged into the underside of the bench, startling her further. Carrie fell back with a crash, and still unsure of how to judge where her limbs were, succeeded in making an even louder racket as she tried to hold still.

"What was that?" Powerglide shot to a sitting position but Wheeljack caught him before the mech could potentially spring off the table.

"It's nothing to worry about. Something probably just fell over." Perceptor, who conveniently had his back to her, positioned himself so the back of his leg was blocking her view.

"It didn't sound like something falling over. It was more like a ricocheting gunshot. Nothing is going to suddenly blow up over there, is it?" Powerglide made a sharp scraping sound and Carrie heard his metal pedes clang on the floor.

"Why would an inert object explode?" Wheeljack asked quizzically. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Not to be rude, but can I reschedule this? I-I just received a message from Prime saying that he needs me." Powerglide's voice was sliding further away as he spoke.

"Sure, just give me a ping." Wheeljack said moments before Carrie heard the sliding door open and close.

"That couldn't have been anymore unproductive." Perceptor vented.

"Actually, the data he provided will help with a similar project I've been working on." Wheeljack's description of a device Carrie didn't understand a lick about was drowned out by her hammering fuel pump.

She laid on the floor, her nose pushing through the crack between the machine and table's leg, trying fruitlessly to shove her way through. A frustrated whine escaped her.

There was movement, and scuffling pedes before the heavy machine was dragged aside. Perceptor stood as Carrie darted out from under the desk and into the middle of the room with flattened ears and a lowered tail. Her optics were on the door, contemplating leaving with the mech that had just gone, but her common sense got the better of her. No human would recognize her, and in all honesty, she wasn't in that much of a hurry to return to her office and explain to her boss where she had been if it had been several days since her supposed death. He would believe her story of dying and waking up as a robot about as much as her dad did when she accidentally fell through a first story window by leaning on the glass.

"What's wrong, Livewire?" Wheeljack kneeled in front of her so he was at eye level. It took all of her willpower not to flinch. Her mind was wandering too much, she needed to focus.

She approached him cautiously and clinked the tip of her nose against his hand that was resting on his knee. She was disappointed when he didn't so much as twitch at the contact, but wasn't sure what she was expecting from him. Maybe a pat on the head, or words to reassure her that the world wasn't about to crumble under her feet along with her perception of reality.

"Why did you hide me?" Her voice sounded pathetic, even to her. She tried to clear her throat, but the mechanisms that made up her vocals couldn't produce the sounds or sensations she wanted. They growled instead, startling her, but she repeated herself more firmly this time, "Why are you hiding me?"

Wheeljack's optics brightened. "Because, we can't go showing you off until we're sure you're perfect."

She would have laughed in his face if she were in any other situation. "I'm not a project," she stated like a broken record. So many questions were wanting to claw out of her mouth, yet she couldn't form any of the ones that really mattered.

"Of course you are. You're a beautiful project! Probably one of my best, yet." He produced a smudged rag from seemingly nowhere and rubbed gently against the side of her snout.

She stilled under his touch, and even though all she could sense was pressure as he went in a circle around the spot she had whacked, it somehow made his strangely praising words more comforting.

Wheeljack pulled away momentarily to look at the scuff mark before continuing to rub at it. "Just try not to bang your face into anymore tables. That looked like it hurt."

She would have blushed in embarrassment if she were still capable of turning red.

Perceptor circled around them with a thoughtful look, glancing mostly at the mark Wheeljack was erasing. "Perhaps we should reevaluate her self-preservation program the next time we conduct a diagnosis?"

Carrie pulled away from Wheeljack and gave Perceptor a hard glare. She swore that if the red Autobot kept treating her like a glitching program, she was going to bite something off with her shiny new teeth. They seemed to have done plenty of damage to Wheeljack's arm even though she hadn't put much force into the action. She glanced at the tooth marks and felt a shred of guilt mixed with the surreal knowledge that she now had the ability to bite through metal.

It was a little comforting to know she could defend herself if need be, especially as her worries grew. She was beginning to think telling the Autobots about her being a human wouldn't be such a good idea. It was hard to tell if they believed in such things. Being logical, mechanical aliens, they might find her situation highly illogical. They would probably check off her claim as another glitch in her memory, and Perceptor seemed to be looking for any excuse to explain and fix her bewildered behavior. The possibility to being subjected to some sort of alien mind probe was highly unappealing.

She mentally backpedaled and tried to reassess her situation. It might be better to just play along as their pet project and see if she could figure out for herself how to change back, or at least find an explanation to her condition. Besides, adopting the name Livewire and getting out of work for a while didn't sound so bad.

A spark caught Carrie's eye on a work bench across the room. It flared twice more, shooting across the surface and tangling around the metal objects scattered on the table. "Is it supposed to do that?" She asked uncertainly.

"What-" Wheeljack followed her gaze, and when he saw the rapidly sparking component, leapt to his pedes. "Slag!"

Perceptor became panicked. "Don't tell me you left a spark plug next to a battery again!"


	3. Chapter 3

Livewire: Chapter 3

"Livewire, be careful how you handle that."

She froze and looked back at Wheeljack with a cylindrical part in her mouth, loose wires dangled limply from both ends, slapping against her jaw. She shot him a scowl. Livewire was being as careful as she could without the use of hands, appendages she was quickly beginning to miss. The first time she tried to pick up a blocky electrical component in her mouth, she accidentally bit through the metal casing. Ever since then Wheeljack had been quick to remind her to check her jaw pressure and only asked her to bring the more durable items. Besides a few teeth marks here and there, she didn't think she was doing that poorly, especially since she couldn't actually feel the object resting on her fangs until she had ripped through it.

Livewire jumped onto her hind legs and supported her upper weight on the surface of the table with her front paws to deposit the part next to a pile of metal scraps. She swiveled around to Wheeljack who was working with his back to her and sat on her haunches. "What are you building?" she asked.

Wheeljack waved a wrench like object in his hand and his ear fins lit up a bright blue. "It's a secret!"

Livewire's head tilted to the side in befuddlement. "Why can't you tell me? I don't have anyone to tattle to?"

"I said it's a secret. Please grab that component next."

Perplexed, she picked up the metal object he pointed to and brought it to his outstretched hand. He placed it on the table and began soldering it to the mess strewed about his work table. The sparks from the welder weren't blinding to her optics like they would have been to her human eyes, her new sight automatically adjusted to the harsh light. She didn't realize the stray shards of heat that sprayed from the welder, harmlessly bouncing off her armor. Her mind was too preoccupied with her conveniently built in chronometer. She had been checking it periodically the last couple days, hoping it had been set incorrectly. Whatever passed for her heart at the moment fluttered and constricted each time looked.

"What year is it?" She asked.

Wheeljack didn't miss a beat when he answered "2013."

Livewire's tail straightened and she felt her fuel pump's pace increase.

"That one is next." With barely a glance, Wheeljack pointed to a part across the room.

Livewire silently obeyed, but stopped short of picking it up. She didn't want to believe him, or her internal clock. If she did, it meant she had been dead - or comatose - for a little over a year.

Livewire tried to close her eyes to shut out the metallic surroundings, but the natural action was impossible without eyelids. In frustration, she dove into her accessible mind and discovered that she could offline her optics.

It was as simple as flipping a mental switch. One moment she saw the world in vibrant colors outlined by distracting data feeds, and the next was blissful darkness.

"Livewire, I need that part now." Wheeljack's impatience snapped the world back into focus, more on instinct than her own will. She bent down and carefully picked up the part between her jaws and brought it to him. It might be time she told him about being human and ask him straight up if he knew, and if so, why he placed her in this body.

She hated to think an Autobot had done this to her, and even worse, ignored it, treating her like another machine. Wheeljack was dedicated to his work, but nothing he had done so far was evil. He hadn't done much at all, really. Besides tinkering almost endlessly with pieces of scrap and slowly accumulating piles of parts near his projects.

Livewire opened her mouth and her vocals seized with a soft click before relaxing.

"Wheeljack, I-I need to ask you something-"

The door swung open and Livewire nearly jumped a mile in the air. Perceptor strolled in and she stared at him, opened mouthed as her fuel pump raced. If she still had hands she would have strangled the mech, or shoved him back outside.

He walked over to Wheeljack and Livewire sensed a weak discharge of energy that tickled her frame like a ghosting fingertips from where they stood. She shrank away from the alien feeling until she was out of range.

"This is the final start up, are you ready?"

Wheeljack put his project down on the table. "Sure am. I've got everything set up."

Livewire watched them skeptically and started to get a bad feeling when they both turned to look down at her. Perceptor produced a familiar handheld from subspace. It was a device he had been using to dive into her systems to turn on or calibrate the programs that now ran through her body and dictated the functions that allowed her to live. She had the feeling this wasn't going to be the usual system tweaking.

"What are you doing?" Her pitch came out a little higher than normal.

"I'm going to start up your battle computer and test your weaponry," Perceptor said a bit too enthusiastically for her taste.

Livewire felt a slight tightening in her chest. "I'm a weapon?" She bit out in disbelief.

"No, but you do have weapons. It's only logical."

She couldn't fathom why she would need a gun in her hands, or paws. "Why?"

"Simple. It's so you can conduct your missions and have the highest probability of coming out alive."

"Missions?" She felt sick.

"Of course. Do you have access to your functions profile?"

Livewire hastily searched her information banks with the keywords 'function' and 'profile' and found a file that branched into several sub topics that she was surprised she hadn't come across earlier. The first one was short and to the point.

Designation: Livewire

Faction: Autobot

Rank: Soldier

Function: Reconnaissance

Special Functions: (redacted)

"Recon? I don't have any training. I can't fight." Panic was slowly setting in.

Wheeljack tapped his helm. "It's all up here in your battle computer. It will tell you what to do. The rest will come from practice."

He wasn't joking. They were both expecting her to fight for the Autobots.

Her optics went wide. "I can't…I'm not a soldier!" She started pacing and the two scientists shared a look of concern.

"Of course you are. That's what you were programed to be." Perceptor tried to reason.

"Programed? You think you can brainwash me into thinking I can fight? I don't even have a reason to. Why should I risk my life for that?"

"The reason is under the Autobot code. We fight to survive and protect those around us."

Livewire was close to snarling now. "What if I refuse to fight? Will you kill me? Break me down into parts to create a more obedient machine?"

Perceptor was quick to object, "Primus no."

"Livewire," Wheeljack said with a sternness she hadn't heard before, even after she had bitten through his precious electronics. "If you don't want to fight no one will force you."

Perceptor gaped and swept his hands in the air disbelievingly. "But this is what we built Livewire for. It would best function following its imbedded programs."

Livewire balked, "You can't just-"

"And I was never meant to be outfitted with a blaster. She's barely been online for a human week. Give her time to decide what she wants to do."

It was uncanny for Wheeljack to back her up. Usually he let Perceptor do as he pleased and reprimanded her with words whenever she objected to a scan or armor adjustment. The surprise wasn't hers a lone. Perceptor stared back at Wheeljack for a good click before relenting with a vented sigh.

"Fine. I don't see why it wouldn't be happier following its core programing. But as you said, it's still early and there are more tests to be done."

Livewire's cables loosened and her tail dropped in relief despite the implications of further prodding.

The engineer's ear fins brightened a little. "Great. Now how about we get that Battle Computer online?"

Her ears stiffened. "I thought you just said I didn't have to fight."

"No, but you would like to be able to defend yourself if need be, wouldn't you?"

She would have scowled if she could. "This is a scam, isn't it? You intend for me to fight anyway. Not now, but later."

"We'll see."

"Wheeljack!"

The mech held his hand out to Perceptor and the scientist handed over the scanner.

"Stand still, this will only take a moment."

He pressed the armor at the base of her neck to uncover an access point and plug in the device. The machine sent a stream of data that flashed on her HUD. The Battle Computer booted up and her vision became filled with sensory information. Standing across from her, Perceptor was evaluated as 'friend', potential weak points or points of damage were circled on his frame, and possible escape routes were highlighted. For any normal person it would have been too much at once, but she was surprised at how much she was able to process without trouble. The individual details were hard to grasp, but she had the feeling she could react to them as a whole if she needed to. It was like recognizing words on a page instead of reading the individual letters they were composed of.

Next to her softly purring engine a buzz built from somewhere inside until it became an audible whine. A surge of electricity went through her frame from the inside out and expanded to her appendages, almost like a spreading warmth that radiated outward. Wheeljack let out a yelp and sprung away, accidentally ripping the scanner out of her neck. Livewire squeaked in pained surprise and rounded on Wheeljack who was fervently shaking his hand.

"I should have been expecting that."

The soft buzzing wound down powered down to a low hum. "What just happened?"

"Your electromagnetic pulse, or EMP, activated," Perceptor pointed out. "It's meant to shock a Decepticon trying to grab you and momentarily fritz their sensors so you have time to escape. It's much stronger than its handheld or haphazardly installed counterparts."

"Lucky for me it had just turned on and hadn't had time to charge up any significant amount of voltage." Wheeljack put the scanner down and poked Livewire in the shoulder. The hum intensified and at his touch and rippled over her armor to reach out and shocked him with invisible tendrils.

"It should be a good fifteen minutes before it gains any significant charge."

Wheeljack began poking her shoulder over and over to test the shock and Livewire moved away in annoyance. "So your big plan was to turn me into a living taser and act as a spy?"

"No, no. This is just your last line of defense if you get caught," Perceptor went on to add, "That electrical field has more than one use. Its special function lies in its ability to mimic any spark signature nearby. They are officially called Chameleon circuits."

"Meaning you can't be picked up on scanners unless there isn't another transformer within ten miles," Wheeljack piqued in.

"I don't know what a spark signature is, but that sounds kind of cool."

"Right! You'll be begging to go on missions to try it out pretty soon." Wheeljack sounded too hopeful for her liking.

"You're not going to change my mind that easily."

He nodded in a way she knew he wasn't listening. "Yep, now let's go and present you to Optimus."

Her spark sputtered at the mere mention of the Autobot leader's name. See him now? As in _right_ now? She hadn't thought of what to say to him. How she was going to tell him she was a human who woke up in a transformers body. How could she even talk to him? Anything that came out of her mouth would probably sound stupid.

"Are you sure that's wise? Her battle computer is online, but we haven't tested to make sure the electromagnetic components are working properly."

More tests sounded good, it would give her a little bit longer to think. She nodded to his short list despite not understanding what he meant.

Wheeljack bumped his leg into her side and used his hands to start guiding her reluctantly towards the door. "Those things don't matter. We can find out during demonstration. I've already set up a meeting with him and we're about to be late."

Perceptor scowled. "You set up a meeting already?"

"Two weeks ago."

"And you conveniently forgot to tell me?" Perceptor looked decidedly put out. "If I had known there was a deadline I would have completed more checks and turned on her systems far earlier."

"We both went over the weaponry several times before onlining her. You checked the electrical pathways specifically. Nothing has changed since then so it should work just fine. Come on, let's go." Wheeljack couldn't contain his excitement as he usured a speechless Livewire out of the room, receiving small zaps each time he prodded her.

She walked behind Wheeljack with Perceptor bringing up the rear as they marched down the empty hall. She could barely focus on where her feet were going her mind was racing so quickly. What was she going to say to Optimus? _"Hi, I'm not really a transformer. I'm a human who woke up this way. Can you please change me back?"_

Her jaw creaked as she grit her teeth, a bad habit from when she was human that had developed after she started working full time. It started out as a concentration thing whenever she was fixing a frustrating program to a habit when fully engrossed in something. She had eventually put so much strain on her jaw that she developed TMJ problems.

Wheeljack led them into a large room and Perceptor nearly tripped over Livewire she had stopped so abruptly. Inside was Optimus Prime and a cluster of other Autobots she recognized from the news, and others who were completely alien to her. Bluestreak waved enthusiastically, causing Prowl to look up from his data pad.

Livewire ducked behind Wheeljack as a hush fell over the room.

"Bluestreak? Even you knew about this meeting?" Perceptor sounded betrayed.

Bluestreak's optics went wide. "It's on everyone's schedule. I thought you knew about it. If you hadn't I would have told you right away. Please don't look at me like that, I promise I didn't hide anything from you."

Perceptor vented dramatically. "I suppose I have been too engrossed in my work. I've been doing my daily duties without much thought to everyone else's schedule."

Prowl scoffed. "You should check it at least three times every dozen cycles. Scheduling of events could change at any time."

"Wheeljack," was all Optimus had to say to quiet the room. "What is this 'amazing masterpiece' you and Bluestreak have been going on about that you didn't want to present until now?"

Livewire felt an excited chill go up her spine and the rate of her fuel pump spiked at hearing his voice in person. It sounded larger in person than on a scrawny TV sound system.

Wheeljack went into automatic presentation mode and bent forward with an excited glint in his optics. "We all know how much of a pain in the neck Ravage is, but also how useful the cybercat is to the Decepticons on gathering info and being a general nuisance."

The group gave each other apprehensive glances while Optimus merely nodded.

"We've always been strapped for specialized spies or anyone with the equipment especially built for reconnaissance. Perceptor and I found a way to build our own spy. One that can go behind enemy lines, record audio or retrieve data, and get out before anyone notices they're there. I present to you my latest project, Livewire!"

To Livewire's horror he stepped aside and spread his arms to showcase her to the others.

"Absolutely not!" Prowl shouted, above a burst of conversations. "I recall you were strictly ordered not to make any more primitive drones. You remember how mindless and destructive the Dinobots were. You," he then turned on Perceptor. "I thought you knew how to follow protocol better. I expected you to keep Wheeljack in line, not help him with his synthetic spark projects."

"She's different," Wheeljack defended hotly. "And it's not Perceptor's fault. Her processing functions weren't scarified for power and she was never given a synthetic spark. She's all program. Though, she does shows signs of having some degree of awareness. I'm not sure how deep that goes or if it's just a quirk of the personality program."

Prowl didn't look very assured.

"Um." Livewire was having a heard enough time finding her voice and when the whole room turned to look at her, including Optimus, her vocals locked and she shrank a little behind Wheeljack.

"Well, at least it's not trying to breath fire down our necks," one of the 'bots sighed.

"I don't see the harm in it. This Live-something just looks like a giant dog. A good choice in animal if you ask me." For the first time Livewire noticed the older human male standing at the feet a rather short transformer, Bumblebee if she remembered right. She hadn't realized just how much bigger she had become. The man wearing a construction outfit didn't even come up to most of the Autobot's knees. She stood a little over 9 feet tall, but she hadn't felt particularly big during the time she spent around Wheeljack and Perceptor. Everyone still towered over her by at least ten feet.

"Livewire is not a dog. She is designed after the species classification Canis Lupus," Wheeljack huffed.

The man crossed his arms. "That's nice, but why is it staring at me like I'm going to be its next meal?"

Livewire couldn't help but be entranced. She was a human only a few days ago, or what seemed like a few days ago, and now she was being stared up at by one of her own species as if she were a strange creature.

"There's nothing antagonistic that was programed into her, as far as I know. Ask Perceptor, that was his part of the project." Wheeljack nudged her a little with his foot, bringing her out of her stupor staring contest.

"Watch this. She can do more than just recon. Her systems are fully built for combat."

Wheeljack brought out a metal cube and tossed it onto the floor. It unfolded and a blue light shot out from the center of it where a form slowly began to take the shape of a nameless transformer.

"Livewire, attack!" Wheeljack pointed at the hologram, but all she did was stare at him in confusion. He couldn't be serious. She didn't know how to attack, or with what. It looked like she would go right through the shimmering image so she wasn't eager to barrel straight into it.

"Attack!" He repeated.

"How?" She asked nervously.

"Just activate your Battle Computer and your weapons will automatically online." Perceptor provided.

Livewire felt she didn't have much choice with everyone looking at her expectantly so she searched inward for the mental switch that would turn the Battle Computer back on. Her core temperature rose and her HUD zeroed in on the hologram. Several prompts flickered in the corner of her vision and she picked one without thinking. Immediately, something sprang out from between her shoulder blades and curled over her head like bull horns. A distinct hum filled the air and she could see electricity snaking its way around the horns and dispersing into the air as it flailed around the twin rods.

She panicked at the nearness of the electricity snapping at the air like an enraged creature and tried to duck away from it. Perceptor grabbed her by the rump and kept her still the next time she tried to flinch away in an attempt to keep from getting zapped.

"You can't be harmed by the electricity. Go ahead and attack the target. Just ram into it with the electromagnetic prongs," he encouraged.

Ram into it? She thought he was nuts. What could she possibly do to a hologram, and how was a computer supposed to suddenly allow her to fight? Livewire back up a step and allowed the battle computer to line up a trajected path. She still thought this was an astronomically bad idea, but cycled once then took off at a sprint towards the hologram. It hadn't occurred to her that running on four legs might have been slightly different and more difficult than walking. She slipped a few times over her paws as the unfamiliar weight of her body shifted around her and she thought she was going to be eating the floor at any second, but her internal stabilizer helped to even out her stride just in time for the computer to prompt her to jump.

She didn't. Despite a nagging feeling in the back of her head that she should jump _now_, she waited until the last second to try and get a better angle before jumping up. She instinctively curled her head under her paws to protect her neck and cranium as the two prongs coming out of her back collided with the hologram with a loud fizzle followed by an electric _pop_.

Surprisingly, the flickering figure was solid on impact and she felt it give way under the electric shock the prongs administered. The hologram wavered and broke apart seconds after she touched down on all fours.

Someone whistled and the human clapped.

"Interesting. So its abilities are focused around electricity. A bit inefficient, but useful in some situations." Prowl noted.

Perceptor pointed a finger in the air. "On the contrary, it is very efficient. Instead of focusing on cloaking technology where the user's very armored plates mimic the area around them, Livewire's basic ability centers around chameleon circuitry which depends on a special kind of electric field to match the exact rhythm and signature of nearby Cybertronians. This requires an incredibly high energy output and makes it almost impossible to add other types of weaponry because it would overtax the body and burn through reserves too quickly to be practical. In order to overcome that barrier Wheeljack and I had to find a way to manipulate the electromagnetic field that that the generator-"

"Perceptor. Get to the point," A blue and white mech snapped.

Livewire thought he was being a little harsh, but he was speaking his mind for everyone else who didn't have the heart to stop him. Even she had started to drift from the conversation to sneak a look at the other Autobots. Every now and then one would look over to her, but overall they seemed more interested in the two that had built her new body. Until now, that is. It was looking more and more like the majority of them just wanted this small presentation to be over. The only one who didn't look irritated or bored was Optimus.

During the breath Perceptor took Wheeljack picked up with a brief summary that was a little easier to digest. "The electricity manipulation was something I thought of when studying the trace chameleon circuitry from a piece of Ravage's armor. It only made sense to expand on its electrical use and integrate it into other functions. It makes for a surprisingly flexible defensive and offensive system when you can redirect the flow into other parts and change its intensity at will."

"What happened to fire breathing monsters? This one almost seems tame, even with all that shocking," Jazz noted. The signature number four painted across his white chassis was a dead giveaway to his identity. The media tended to congregate around his seemingly carefree personality.

"Its maneuvers are all defensive, not offensive unless provoked. Naturally there would be no need to add aggression to her personality as it would contradict the point of slipping behind enemy lines and slipping out as quickly as possible." As Perceptor explained Livewire turned off her battle computer and the prongs above her head retracted back underneath flaps in her armor. The flow of electricity returned to lying dormant just under her plates and a rush of hot air gushed from the vents protected by her shoulder armor.

"Great. Is that all you had to show us?" A tall yellow Autobot asked rudely. "Because I would like to get out of here before that thing decides one of us provoked it."

"If you wish. There really isn't much else to show unless we send it out onto the battlefield." Perceptor had barely finished speaking when the yellow Autobot followed by a train of others exited the room as if there was a fire hot on their heels. Only Bumblebee took his time scooping up the human and strolling out with a parting wave. The scientists, Prowl, and Optimus lingered behind. Livewire wasn't sure if she should feel offended that no one seemed overly impressed with her presence or glad for it.

She felt eyes boring into her and turned to Optimus who was watching her with keen interest. The room suddenly felt deadly silent more intimidating than when it was full of Autobots.

Wheeljack was oblivious. "So what do you think, Prime?"

"I think, we'll see in due time. I don't blame the others for being wary, and truthfully I am as well."

Wheeljack and Perceptor looked like they were about to argue, but Optimus cut them off. "But, I am willing to give this creation of yours a chance when the time calls for it."

Livewire wanted to snap and wave in their faces saying _'I'm standing right here!'_ but thought better of interrupting them.

Instead, took a step forwards. "Excuse me, Optimus Prime?"

His intense blue optics locked onto hers. "I am listening." He was probably the only one to ever say those lines and sound sincere.

Livewire wasn't sure, but she thought a little part of her had just died inside. Optimus Prime had spoken to her, a life-long figure she had looked up to for as long as she could remember. It took a moment for her brain to scramble together the words she wanted to say.

"I don't want to go on the battlefield." Everything came out in a rush and they weren't the ones she had intended. "I don't even know how to fight. I don't think I can wing it by following a computer." She added a belated "Please?" when he didn't immediately respond.

"There is no reason to rush. The physical battle field isn't the only place help is needed. There are other tasks that can be performed on base."

"Thank you." She breathed in relief. He wasn't going to throw her straight into the fire, but it surprised her that he expected her to work on their ship as if she were really one of them.

Wheeljack and Perceptor looked disappointed, but she counted it a small victory.

"I need to return to my duties if I might be dismissed. Unless there is anything you wish to speak about." Prowl said brusquely.

"You may go." Optimus nodded. "I need that report ready by the end of the next cycle."

Perceptor stepped aside and Prowl gave him a pointed look before exiting.

"That didn't go as well as I had hoped." Wheeljack noted when the door slid shut.

"Your life-like creations are still a sore spot for many of us, including me."

Wheeljack looked rightly offended.

"I'm sorry Wheeljack, but we're just now getting used to the Dinobots and even then they're still a violent wild card."

"Which is why I was present to do all of the programing. I made sure Wheeljack didn't sacrifice any major functions for a ludicrous reason such as making more room for lustful tendency towards destruction." Perceptor felt inclined to point out.

"I understand, and I thank you for the consideration. Livewire could be of significant use in the future. If you will excuse me, I need to finish filing paper work before Prowl sends his report." Optimus walked out of the room and Livewire sprang into action. She followed him out, leaving the two scientists in the room behind her.

Optimus' gait slowed after he made it into the hallway and fell into step behind him. She was beginning to wonder what these Dinobots were and why everyone kept bringing them up anytime she was mentioned. No one seemed to like them.

"Was there something else you needed?" Optimus stopped and turned to face her.

She froze in place and looked up at him with a nervous twitch of her ears and opened her mouth slowly.

"There's something I need to tell you."


	4. Chapter 4

Livewire: Chapter 4

"Was there something else you needed?" Optimus stopped and turned to face her.

She froze in place and looked up at him with a nervous twitch of her ears and opened her mouth slowly.

"There's something I need to tell you."

Livewire stiffened under his long shadow. Optimus Prime was larger than she had imagined, fully armored and wide enough to fill the hall with his powerful girth. Standing so close, she felt insignificant in comparison, like an annoying bug trying to gain the attention of a greater being. Her tank did a little flip and she felt something akin to bile rise her throat.

"Is this urgent?"

"Well, no." _Yes._

"I don't mean to sound rude, but if it can wait I would appreciate it if you made a report for Prowl or myself to read later." There was a heavy sigh in his voice that hadn't been present when he was in the meeting.

"Ok, it's fine. I'll make a report." _You idiot._

"Thank you. I would hear you out, but there is growing list of pressing matters that need my immediate attention."

Optimus left her standing in the hallway alone and internally screaming at her own stupidity. Why couldn't she just tell him? He had been standing right there, alone, his full attention on her, and she still couldn't tell him about her…condition. Livewire rammed her forehead into the wall with a solid _thunk_ and admired a close up of the scratches in the metal wall. There was no way she was going to send a report in. She didn't want to announce that she was human on anything that could be recorded, duplicated, or possibly seen by someone else's eyes.

She slowly ground her head into the wall. The longer she held her mouth, the longer she would be trapped like this; in a metal canine body that can barely feel a thing, has no hands, is run on a built in super computer (ok, that was actually kind of cool), and everyone treats her like an object. The Autobots were always saying how they're sentient; they weren't electronics because of something called a spark which they translated for humans to be a heart or a soul. That was all she really knew, but for some reason she imagined them having a little more respect than to call her an 'It'.

Come to think of it, everyone turned into cars and giant robots while she was just a dog, _wolf_ - she growled at the correction. Was her form a reason for them to think she was below them?

"Hey, is that thing glitching out already?"

"Don't look at it. It might think you're a good snack."

"I thought it would only attack if provoked?"

"Your face is all it needs to see."

"Hey!"

Livewire whipped around with a snarl. "I can hear you just fine. If you bastards want to say something about me say it to my face."

Her two toned metallic growl fizzled out as she trailed up two pairs of tall white legs to Autobots with wings sprouting from their backs. She didn't remember seeing them in the meeting room.

"Who are you?" The question came with a cautious glare.

"The name's Slingshot and this guy with the ugly face plates is Air Raid."

Air Raid shoved Slingshot forward with a disgruntled, "You fragger!" and Air Raid elbowed him back. They looked almost identical with their matching red and red white jobs except Slingshot looked slightly bulkier than Air Raid and had a smirk on his face that raised her hackles.

"Hey, drone. Think you can go and fetch us some energon?" Slingshot put his hands on his hips and leaned over her.

Energon, she knew it was their life sustaining force and provided energy for much of her own civilization ever since the Autobots introduced humans to it. It was cleaner to use and had a higher yield of energy than coal when it came to input versus output and could be created through solar energy, essentially making it undepletable. The only downside was how unbelievably expensive it could be to produce.

Livewire couldn't help but hear the arrogance of her boss in his voice. The difference between the two was her salary and livelihood didn't depend on this 'bot. "Get your own. I'm not your maid."

Slingshot frowned and Air Raid moved in closer to mirror Slingshot's towering posture. Livewire felt her battle computer itching at the back of her mind as if it were on a hair trigger.

"Are you defective or something? If you don't go and get that energon I might have to tell Wheeljack you're defective and need to be broken down for scrap." Air Raid's hungry optics told her he was serious. A chill went through her circuits at the thought of Wheeljack listening to him. For all she knew Air Raid was Wheeljack's boss. Plus Air Raid had called her a drone. It might have been some sort of derogatory term, but she was begging to feel that was how everyone viewed her. If there were true, Wheeljack would have no problem killing her if she were deemed a flawed piece of machinery.

"Fine. I'll go." As much as it killed her to say it, if it kept her alive, it would be a small price to pay. After all, it wasn't the first time she had been forced to suck up her pride.

The two 'bots smiled simultaneously and straightened to give her some much needed breathing room.

"That's a good little drone," Slingshot oozed.

Livewire shot through the opening they had left between them and took off down the hall without looking back.

"Don't forget to put an olive on it!" Slingshot hollered before she was out of hearing range.

The energon flowing in her lines boiled as she slowed her steps into a stomping march. Why did they have to be such…such jerks! Never in her life had she imagined an Autobot being as annoying or boorish as another human. It was disgusting.

A stocky green and yellow Autobot came around a corner and she stared at him from the corner of her optic in case he decided to jump her like the other two had. He only gave her a passing glance and never looked back before disappearing around another bend in the hallway.

Livewire fumed for a while longer until her shoulders were starting to relax from walking in circles despite the occasional Autobot she would pass and pointedly glare at their backs. They all left her alone which helped her gradually feel better. She hadn't been looking for energon and wouldn't know the first place to begin or how to even transport it. She had no hands and she remembered the cubes they were stored in to be huge. For a moment she thought of not bringing them any at all, but the thought of them pulling through with their threat hung over her head like a dark cloud. She was about to turn around to search the rooms she had passed when a familiar voice called out to her.

"Hey, Livewire! I wanted to say how great you were when Wheeljack and Perceptor showed you off to the others, but I had to leave with everyone else. I could tell Optimus wanted to talk to you guys in private. Wheeljack told me you had a massive generator for electricity stored in your frame that sounded like it could do a lot of cool things, but I had no idea it would be like that."

She stared at Bluestreak like a fish out water as he rambled about how cool she looked and that he knew the others would like her. She wondered if he saw the same room full of Autobots she had. She waited for him to finish reenacting her charge at the hologram and couldn't help but snicker at his theatrics. He had one leg in the air, his head was curled to his chest, and his hands were fisted by his side.

"I don't think it looked like that," she laughed.

Bluestreak put his foot down and gave her a contagious smile. "Were you going somewhere? You looked like you were in a hurry."

The grin that couldn't fully articulate itself on her plated face faltered and her ears twitched. "I was looking for energon. Slingshot and Raid-something wanted it."

"Slingshot and Air Raid? That's weird. Follow me. I'll show you where the dispenser is."

Bluestreak gave her a quick rub between her ears as he walked by and lead her down the hall until they reached a room furnished with giant round tables and chairs that a few Autobots were occupying. Bluestreak led her to the back where a large machine that looked like a giant water cooler sat against the wall. He pressed a button that made a cube materialize out from the base and a pink liquid poured down from above.

"Here you go. One Energon cube to go."

Livewire stared at the glowing cube a foot from her face and glanced up at Bluestreak. "I don't have hands."

He realized her problem and took back the cube. "Oh. Why don't I carry them for you?"

Livewire vented with relief. This meant she wouldn't have to face the two Autobots with wings alone when she went to try and find them. Bluestreak was filling up a second cube when a shout across the room caught their attention.

"What's going on Blue? Don't have a patrol?"

At the entrance Bumblebee waved while the human she saw from before sat on his other outstretched palm.

Bluestreak took the second cube and approached with light steps to Bumblebee who let the human down. Livewire cautiously approached and stood by Bluestreak's side.

"I don't have patrol duty for a few cycles so I'm helping Livewire out. Say, what did you think about her? She's pretty cool, huh? And cute too."

Livewire felt a rush of heat. What was he doing saying something so casually?

The human laughed. "Cute? That thing there could probably tear your head off and bite me in two."

He was a lot older than she thought he was. From up close the man looked to be in his seventies. The construction outfit from earlier was gone and he now wore a pair of jeans and a button down shirt. She lowered her head until her optics cast a yellow hue on his skin.

"Why would I tear anyone's head off?" She was wondering why everyone seemed to think she would go rabid at any moment. Was it a drone mentality?

"If you have to ask, then there's probably nothing to worry about." He held out a hand. "My name is Sparkplug. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She lifted her paw to shake his hand before remembering she all she could do was step on him and put it back down after pawing at the air between them. "Likewise. I'm Livewire. I don't mean to be rude, but Sparkplug is a strange name…for a human." She added the last bit slowly, the context alien to say.

Sparkplug chuckled. "I suppose it is. Actually, it was a nickname given to me by my colleagues back when I served in the Marines. There was once an incident involving sparkplugs and gunpowder and the rest was history. Ever since I told the Autobots that story they haven't called me anything since and it's become a bit of a bad habit. You can call me Witwicky if you prefer."

She liked him already. Sparkplug – or Mr. Witwicky - reminded her of one of those older guys who had seen so much bull in their life that they preferred to get to the point and not worry about the small things.

"My name is Bumblebee." The smallest Autobot, who was still taller than her, gestured to himself. Livewire felt the ghost of a strange tingling sensation brush across her armor like the electricity that hummed under her armor when the battle computer was activated, only this time it came from an external source. The feeling made her shiver and Bumblebee had a momentarily worried look that she would have missed if she still had to blink.

She was about to say she knew him from TV, but stopped short. "Hello."

"You know," Witwicky rubbed his chin. "I always had a feeling Wheeljack was a dog person, but Perceptor I always took as a cat person. I wonder how they figured which one they were going to make."

Bumblebee gave him a look that suggested Witwicky grew two heads, but Bluestreak practically gushed at the mention of a dog.

"I've seen puppies at the park. They are so cute. I always wanted one, but I knew Prime would never allow it and I might accidentally step on it they're so small. I would never be able to live with myself if I killed a puppy."

Livewire didn't know if this was a tangent or something he had wanted to bring up for a while. If he saw her as a puppy that would explain the bouts of baby language and gratuitous amounts of rubbing between her ears. He would probably have done that several times already if it weren't for the energon cubes currently occupying both of his hands.

"I'm not a dog, you know." She wanted to make that very clear.

"I know. You're way better than a regular dog. I can't squish you and you can talk. We might even fight together in battle someday. You could be the Autobot's war hound."

Livewire vented at the huge smile he was giving her. There didn't seem to be any convincing him or anyone that she wasn't a dog or drone and that she wasn't going to fight their war.

"Hey, you're blocking the doorway."

Bumblebee was lightly shoved aside by a tall red Autobot who stepped over Mr. Witwicky and paused to glance down at Livewire.

"So that's the new runt. It looks smaller up close."

Bumblebee crossed his arms at the newcomer. "Sideswipe, do you always have to be so rude?"

"Moi? Never."

Livewire was getting really tired of being talked down at. She nudged Bluestreak's leg to grab his attention and he seemed to know what the problem was right away.

"I need to take these cubes to Silverbolt and Air Raid. We'll let you guys catch up. Come on Livewire."

Sideswipe steeped aside to let them through and Livewire couldn't help but feel she had several pairs of eyes on her back, the other Autobots who had been sitting quietly and enjoying their energon cubes at the tables included.

"Where are we taking these?" Bluestreak held up the two cubes of energon.

She was hoping he could tell her. "I don't know where they are. I just met them in the hallway."

"That's no good. Give me a click and I'll radio them."

Livewire watched him curiously when he made no move to pull out a radio and kept walking with his optics straight ahead.

"Um-"

"I couldn't hail them, but Prowl said they were deployed on a mission with the rest of the Arielbots and they won't be back for at least a day."

Livewire couldn't even begin to express how relieved she was to hear they were gone. She wouldn't have to see them so soon again and they couldn't blame her for not bringing them energon. It also made her incredibly angry that she had complied with their demands and had gone on their little errand. They probably knew they were leaving the whole time and sent her on a wild goose chase simply because they could. The next time she saw them she was going to sink her fangs into their shiny white armor and see how they like having teeth marks marring their finish.

"Since they're gone we could split the energon or we could bring them to Wheeljack and Perceptor. They worked really hard to finish building you the last few months. Did you know they had been working on your frame on and off for over a year? I can't believe Wheeljack forgot about you and was going to let you rust before. I'm glad he decided to finish what he started."

That was news that she wasn't expecting to hear. Her body had been in production for over a year, and she had been dead for over a year. She wondered if the two might be connected, but couldn't possibly see how.

"Sure, why not."

They entered the lab she had become overly familiar with over the course of a week and immediately spotted Wheeljack tinkering with one of the many projects he had going. She stepped around a pile of parts and Bluestreak whistled loudly like a bird.

"Look what I've got!"

Wheeljack jerked his attention towards Bluestreak and dropped his welder in the process. It landed on his foot, sending off a shower of sparks, and Wheeljack exclaimed as he danced around it.

"Primus. A little warning next time?" he groused as he leaned down to pick up the dead welder.

"I'm sorry; I thought you would have noticed me. I wasn't trying to sneak in and-"

Wheeljack held up his hand and Bluestreak silenced immediately. "What's with the energon cubes?"

"These are for you and Perceptor, though I don't see the latter anywhere." Bluestreak handed Wheeljack a glowing cube. "Here you go. One energon cube from Livewire. I carried it here for her since she couldn't use her hands."

Wheeljack looked at Livewire strangely before shrugging and taking a sip. "For me? You shouldn't have."

"It was Bluestreak's idea," Livewire didn't feel right taking the credit even if it was such an insignificant gesture.

Wheeljack took a large gulp and put the cube down on the bench. "That hit the spot. Say, since both of you are here do you want to help me with a little something?"

Livewire lost track of time scurrying about the workshop with Bluestreak who helped put parts together while she retrieved items, all under Wheeljack's supervision of course. She was starting to associate parts by their name and didn't need direction to find them and was starting to pick up the method to Wheeljack's madness of strewn about parts. Livewire was glad she wasn't a neat freak; her mom would have a heart attack at the growing mess the three of them were creating.

She paused at rifling through a box full of wires. It had been a while since she thought of the people she had left behind in the wake of her death. There was no doubt in her mind she had died and wondered what her parents had thought about her disappearance. Had there even been a body to mourn? Her coworkers and boss probably didn't bat an eyelash and replaced her within the month. She wondered what had become of her clownfish Orange Juice floating alone in her apartment. It was depressing to think about. There would probably be nothing to return to if she somehow changed back, if that was even possible. Everything from her life would be gone, sold off, or trashed.

"Having trouble finding what you need?" Bluestreak asked next to her.

"No," she said sharply and pawed at the contents of the box with more force than necessary, making a few pieces go flying.

Bluestreak leaned away and shielded his optics from the wires slapping against his armor. Livewire had decided to take her anger out on the box, no longer looking for a specific wire, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, ready to bite whoever's hand it was, and came face to face with a familiar pink glow stick.

"You get cranky when you're low on energy." Wheeljack shoved the energon stick in her mouth before she could protest and he looked far too amused by her glare.

Without much choice, Livewire bit the stick in half and swallowed it. "Why do you always do that? My moods aren't dictated by my stomach."

Wheeljack smiled in his strange way by the slight lifting at the edge of his blast mask and the brightening of his optics. "You have a fuel tank, not a stomach, and every time you start getting angry my readings say your energy is low. That makes it a scientific fact."

Livewire was about ready to explode. "I didn't know you were my psychiatrist."

Wheeljack shrugged. "I like to branch out. I might be scientifically inclined to the mechanical side of things, but I don't mind dabbling in the abstract."

She was going to say something nasty, but went back to digging out the wire box until she found what she had originally been looking for.

"Here." She dropped the red and yellow wire in his hand and stalked off to 'her corner', or the spot under the table she woke up on, and laid down with a burning look directed at Wheeljack.

He merely chuckled and went back to his project, leaving her to silently fume.

Now that she was lying down, a wave of tiredness washed through her with the same feeling of neglecting sleep she had experienced as a human. During her stay she had drifted in and out of a low power setting whenever she would hunker down in her spot while Wheeljack, and sometimes Perceptor, milled about the lab. The lack of needing to sleep hadn't bothered her, she was sure it wasn't a necessity anymore, but the sluggish feeling and a want to curl up into a warm bed lingered on the edge of her fuzzing conscience.

Bluestreak hastily shoved the strewn about wires back into the box and came to bend down near her spot. She glared at him, making it clear she didn't want to be bothered.

"Come on. Please don't be like that. Wheeljack didn't mean to make you mad. He likes to tease sometimes, but he never means anything by it. One time he made fun of my door wings and I wouldn't talk to him for a week, then he gave me a box full of energon sticks and acted like it had never happened. I'm sorry if I also did something to offend you."

Bluestreak had a look akin to a kicked puppy with his door wings sagged downwards and his optics dimmed.

Livewire turned her head away. "I'm not mad at you. You didn't do anything."

His door wings twitched upwards and his electric optics shined. The movement gave her an idea. She looked at Bluestreak with a wolfish grin and his optics went wide. "What are you-?"

Livewire slithered out from under the desk and trotted over to Wheeljack with her tail held high and her ears erect. Under her armor she could feel the buzz of electricity as her battle computer activated.

"Wheeljack?" She asked in a honeyed voice.

He gave her a sideways glance without taking his hands off of his 'secret' project that looked more like a pile of scrap to her. "Done moping already?" He asked.

"Nope." She touched her nose to his thigh and a zap of lighting snapped between them. Wheeljack leapt backwards, stepping on a cylindrical part that was carelessly thrown on the floor, and fell over backwards with an earth shaking crash.

Livewire couldn't hold back a bark of laughter as she darted from the room leaving Wheeljack struggling to get up and Bluestreak rushing to help him with a startled yelp and string of questions as to his wellbeing. She kept up a fast pace in the hallway and swore if she had a tongue it would be lolling out of her mouth in amusement. She didn't care how much trouble she would get into later, that was worth it. Now if she could just find Perceptor to shock him for every time he plugged that machine into her head and messed around with her programs, then she would be home free to seek out Optimus and tell him about her problem.

The pace of her stride slowed and a painful strike to her chest made her almost stop. It was so stupid that she hadn't told him earlier. What would happen if she waited too long and they found out on their own? The outcome would probably be worse than anything she could think of from just telling them herself. She hated to admit it, but she was scared at what they would think of her and what kind of life she would have afterword. She was already called a drone and considered an asset rather than a living being, but was that worse than being known as a human who was dead yet somehow alive in the body of an Autobot's science project?

Her tail went lax and she felt the lack of sleep, or whatever was the equivalent to it, catching up to her like a thick cloud. Normally, she would go to her spot and curl up, but she couldn't go back after zapping Wheeljack. He might dismantle something in her sleep, like her vocal box. She found the first open door and slipped inside. Inside was a darkened room ringed by glowing monitors that extended to the ceiling with different Cybertronian symbols blinking on and off them faster than she could keep track. She was baffled by the control system imbedded into the desks under them and had a strong hunch that touching them would be a bad idea no matter how much she wanted to see how an alien super computer might work. She wasn't looking to piss everyone in the Autobot army off by messing with their computers. Besides, there was probably nothing but hordes of robot porn on it like her bosses computer. The more sophisticated a machine looked, the more likely it was to have childish things on it that would that scar her for life.

There was no one around and the place felt fairly safe and secluded. One would think that a person would be unnerved being surrounded by giant computer screens, but nothing about the place screamed maliciousness to her. Livewire rooted around the room, checking under the chairs and the lining walls, and nearly squealed with delight when she found a pile of different sized rags, or cloth - she didn't care what they were for - piled into a sort of closet. It was the first nonmetal object she had seen in days. She dove into the off-white sheets and buried herself in them. She curled up with a contented sigh at the familiar weight of something she knew was soft and warm.

* * *

**Author's note:** Some of you might be feeling exasperated with Livewire by now, but I promise she'll reveal her little problem in the next chapter and the ball will get rolling. If there is an obscure/less used Autobot or Decepticon you would like to see more of that people usually neglect, review or PM me and I'll see what I can do.


	5. Chapter 5

Livewire: Chapter 5

The quiet hum of machinery and the crackling of electrical equipment greeted Livewire's audio receptors as her systems sluggishly onlined in the same manor she had awoken for the first time her new body, only without the mental confusion that was now replaced with a lingering tightness in her chest. Her optics onlined, glowing against the sheets wrapped around her and she relished in the calm silence until a slow tapping that only four legs walking across steel could make. The sheets fell away as her head shot into the air and her ears swiveled forwards as she stared at the crack between the half open door to the closet. The footsteps paused then started up again until a slanted, glowing blue optic stared at her through the slit. She froze and stared back at a slice of a feral looking muzzle complete with metallic fangs. After a few minutes it pulled away and walked past the door, giving her a glance of its thick golden body and trailing tail. Her ventilation systems seized and her audios strained to listen to the creatures movements until they halted and the room feel silent again.

Livewire rose from her nest of sheets to poke her head outside and was surprised to see the backs of two Autobots sitting at the monitors that were now filled with various images like a surveying security system. At their feet sat a four legged 'bot that had a striking likeness to a lion staring back at her.

"The new comer is online," the lions voice came out gruff, his optics never leaving her.

Livewire stepped all the way out and a red and yellow Autobot slung an arm over the back of his chair and turned halfway around to look at her with a broad smile on his face plates.

"Hellooo sleeping beauty," he said in a sing-song way.

The Autobot next to him jumped out of his seat and whirled to face her with intense blue optics and a panicked look. "When did it get up? I didn't hear it. I thought it was dead. Get that thing out of here!"

"Whoa, whoa, chill Red Alert. She's one of us."

"I do not _chill, _and it was something Wheeljack concocted. I am not going to trust that thing in the security room. I agreed it could stay until it woke up because pulling it out of its weird stasis could have triggered a violent reaction."

Livewire finally spoke up. "So? What do you have against him?" She was thought it was unfair how everyone was talking badly about Wheeljack behind his back.

"Not much," the unnamed Autobot said.

"His contraptions have a habit of blowing up or otherwise malfunctioning dangerously," the golden lion groused.

The lion creature was much smaller than her and far bulkier. There was a stern air about him that polarized the Autobot slumped casually in the chair next to him. "I haven't seen him blow anything up," she defended.

"Not yet. You haven't been around that long. Wait another day he'll probably blow up half the base leaving a gaping hole in our defenses." Red Alert's face was pinched together and he sounded like he was predicting a giant storm in the same fashion as a meteorologist. "There's a high probability you could fritz out or blow up at any minute and become a safety risk so I would appreciate it if you would leave."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was more offended by their lack of confidence in Wheeljack than Red Alert's accusation of her being a ticking time bomb. Nothing had suggested she could explode at any moment.

The other Autobot frowned and the lion piqued in before she could decide how to prove him wrong. "You don't have to worry. She smells sweet, not sour or burnt. My nose never lies."

"Um…thanks?" She thought it was a complement, but she wasn't sure.

"You can trust Steeljaw. He can smell if something is trouble a mile away." The red and yellow Autobot patted the lion on the head and Steeljaw lifted his snout into the air and his optics dimmed at the touch.

"Blaster…" Red Alert practically wined, but didn't elaborate as he shot her a worried look and turned back to his computer. "Just make sure it doesn't try to offline me when I'm not looking."

"Will do, Red."

Livewire walked over to Steeljaw and gave Blaster a nervous glance before addressing the lion. "Are you also a drone Wheeljack made?"

He scoffed. "How rude. No, I'm a cassette. I have a proper spark."

Her tail fell between her legs. "Oh. What's a cassette?"

"My pals." Blaster tapped against his glass covered chest. "Cassettes are formed when I take a small piece of my spark and insert it into a shell. That piece develops its own personality and becomes an invaluable partner. It's mostly a lost art since few are willing to take the risk it involves."

"For good reason," Red Alert interrupted. "It's incredibly dangerous to hack away parts of a spark and put them into smaller bodies that could potentially get destroyed. The pain alone of extracting spark shards could offline the strongest Autobot."

Livewire felt she was missing something important. "What exactly is a spark?"

A silence fell over the room and her ears twitched nervously. She wondered if she had said something wrong. "I hear it mentioned a lot…"

Blaster rubbed the back of his helm and chuckled. "Well, it's kind of hard to explain. I don't know if I would be the best 'bot to ask."

She glanced at Red Alert who turned around to avoid her gaze. "Don't look at me."

"You should ask your creators. It would be more appropriate if they told you." Steeljaw offered.

She looked between the three Autobots and felt the faint tightness that was becoming persistent in her chest increase. "Creators?"

"The ones who built you."

A small light bulb went on her head. Steeljaw meant Wheejack and Perceptor.

"Perceptor was looking for you earlier. I told him you were crashed out here and not to worry. You could go and ask him now. Last time I checked he was in his lab." Blaster pointed to one of the screens that had what looked like a layout of the base and dozens of moving dots and he traced their position to Perceptor's.

She couldn't help but feel unsettled. "Do you spy on everyone all of the time?"

"I wish. If it were possible to keep visual tabs on everyone at all times I would be able to spot something going wrong at a seconds notice. The only cameras I'm allowed survey the main halls and communal rooms plus some of the outside. The rest of the crew are traced through their signatures so I know where they are at all times." Red Alert scolded an unseen entity for ruining his dream.

"Do you have a tracer on me?" Livewire was afraid to hear the answer.

"You know what? No! I need to. Come here and I'll register your sig-wait, that won't work. Primus, why me."

She started to back slowly away from the Autobot. "It was nice chatting with you guys. I think I'll go and find Perceptor now." She left the room at a fast pace, wanting to put as much distance between her and Red Alert's tracking systems as possible. He was probably staring at her right now through his monitor plotting a way to put at tracker on her. Over her dead body. There was a reason she had always set program securities to max and regularly deleted cookies on her old computer.

The map she had seen on the monitor was at her fingertips in vivid detail like a photographic memory, something she wasn't used to having. She followed its instructions in her mind's eye and found Perceptor's lab. Her first thought was it was just going to be the same workshop she lived in with Wheeljack. It turned out Perceptor had his own space. She walked into the spectacularly clean room full of alien instruments, computers, and a ridiculously giant red telescope aimed at a petri dish.

There wasn't any sight of Perceptor so she called out, "Hello?"

She was about to see if there was an offshoot room when the telescope broke apart and unfolded into Perceptor himself. "Ah, there you are."

Livewire was stunned into silence. It was becoming clear that the Autobots didn't just turn into cars, but all sorts of unusual things. It made her feel a little less out of place even if she couldn't transform herself.

"I'm analyzing a sample of alcanivorax borkumensis to see if it can naturally convert oil into energon. Want to take a look?"

"Sure…" Livewire's head went blank half way through whatever he was talking about.

Perceptor transformed back into a telescope and zoomed into the tiny petri dish. Livewire curiously approached and had to jump onto her hind legs and brace against Perceptor to peer through the scope. What she saw were intensely magnified rod shaped microbes floating around by their flagella. They surrounded tiny orbs of a black substances Livewire guessed was oil and she could see the faintest glow of pink emitting from the oil that had been surrounded. She jumped down and backed away for Perceptor to transform.

"So far they haven't been able to do much on their own. I've manipulated the bacteria's internal coding, but all it does is degrade the alkaline in the oil faster. I also tried adding a rapidly multiplying synthetic bacteria and that seemed to work until it _did_ start producing miniscule amounts of energon, but the caustic nature of the energon started eating through the thin walls of the organic bacteria because of its gram-negative properties. I'm afraid I'm back to square one."

He cradled his chin in his hand thoughtfully as he stared at the ceiling. Livewire felt like her head was going to explode. She knew human computer programing, not organic chemistry or biotechnology.

"That's neat…"

"Isn't it? I've seen all kinds of bacteria, but never one quite like this. Well, I might have, but I've never had to use fossil fuels to create energon until coming to this planet. It's quite interesting."

"I was told you wanted to see me?"

Perceptor easily switched to her train of thought. "Yes, I asked Blaster to send you my way when you finished your recharge cycle. He was quite surprised to find you in the supply closet of the security room. I would advise you find a different place next time, Red Alert doesn't take kindly to surprises."

"I hadn't noticed." She mumbled.

"I would very much like to run a diagnostic of your EMP generator since the time you used it in the training room was the first time it had been officially tested. I need to make sure nothing melted from the superheated electricity."

Livewire resigned herself to being poked and prodded by the curious scientist. He had her hooked up to a machine that supposedly checked her body for internal damage while he peeled away armor to check the delicate vents and machinery underneath. They were both quiet as he meticulously worked, checking over each wire that was connected to the EMP generator and sweeping a sort of instant X-ray machine over them.

Eventually, Livewire worked up the courage to speak. "What is a spark?"

Perceptor paused and her fuel pump accelerated. What if he got all quiet and ominous like the others? Would she be in trouble for asking?

"This is quite sudden, but it's something you should know about."

He placed his X-Ray down and unhooked her from the machine. "What brought this up?"

Livewire took a deep breath of cool air. It didn't have the same calming effect it used it, but it helped. "Blaster was talking about how he tore out chunks of his spark to create mini-me's and I've heard it mentioned several other times. I asked him what it was and he told me to ask you."

Perceptor looked puzzled for a moment. "I'm not sure why he didn't just tell you. Creating cassettes requires an immense knowledge of how the spark works. Ah well. Sit down and I shall tell you."

Livewire sat on her haunches had a sneaking suspicion this was going to be a lot to swallow.

"A spark is what gives a Cybertronian life," Perceptor began. "It consist of our personality and is in essence our soul and physical heart in one. Without it we are nothing but hollow shells of machinery. When a spark dies, so does the 'bot. To protect itself the spark grows a glass like casing that is harder than steel, yet still fragile to cannon fire. This is the reason there is so much armor placed around the midsection."

Livewire looked where he was pointing at his chest and had to agree that everyone she had seen were equipped with rather large chests that looked painful to run into. He traced an invisible circle around an area at the lower part of his chest to indicate his spark's placement.

"Now, sparks are mysterious things. There have been many scientific studies on his its workings, but much of it is still unexplained and up for interpretation. Their source, Vector Sigma, is where they originate. When a new spark is wanted a shell is presented to the sacred relic and it may or may not grant a spark. It's a wonder how it decides which ones to spark. When it does decide to create one it clones a miniscule part from one or more Cybertronians presenting the shell and fuses it into one new spark and gives the shell life."

Livewire wanted to make sure she was getting this right. "So this thing magically makes babies?"

"I wouldn't say magic. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation behind it, we just haven't figured it out yet, and may never get the chance. Vector Sigma was lost at the beginning of the war."

So that meant they were sterile, or something close to that. It sounded like there were different methods like Blaster's spark splitting, but she suspected it was frowned upon due to Red Alert's reaction.

"Something equally as baffling to scientists for millennia's is the workings of bonds which is when certain sparks have a special connection to other sparks. There are different kinds: guardian, the most common; twin, the rarest; siblings from the same person or persons making more than one spark; and bonding, the most sacred and intimate kind.

"I'm only scratching the surface of the intricacies of the spark. A mech can spend millions of years studying them and still not fully understand how they work, but those are the bases. If you wish to know more I can provide scientific readings."

Livewire understood a little of what he was explaining. "Do I have a spark?"

Perceptor's smile fell and he went quiet. "No. like I said, Vector Sigma was lost long ago and you weren't built with a synthetic spark. You are classified as a drone driven by pure programing."

Livewire looked off to the side and a rush of something close to adrenaline coursed through her lines.

"That doesn't mean you would be treated as a lesser being, but you won't be expected to understand certain things. Drones used to be considered beneath Cybertronians until the ruling of Hexus versus Penlatch gave them nearly all of the same rights of natural citizens."

Livewire went still and she looked him directly in the optic. "What if I told you I used to be human?"

His mouth hung open. "That's impossible. Did you download something off the internet and accidentally add it to your core memories?"

She frowned at him. "I haven't been able to get on the internet since I woke up. Like this."

"Woke up?"

"I remember dying. I was hit by a semi-truck running a red light on my way home from work. It hurt like fuck and it was lights out before I knew what was going on. The next thing I know I'm waking up on a lab table in this body and staring at both of you and Wheeljack poking at me like a lab rat."

Perceptor chuckled uncertainly. "That can't happen. You're saying you were a different species that came back to life in a drone?"

Livewire nodded and was disturbed by the contorted emotions playing out on Perceptor's face.

"I think-I think."

A loud pop sounded through the room, Perceptor's optics went fuzzy before completely offlining, and he fell over into a dead heap. Livewire sprung to her paws and nudged his hand, helm, and anything she could. "What just happened? Did you die? I'm not taking responsibility for this. Wake up!"

"Hey, I was thinking about the radiator part you mentioned when-"

"I didn't do it, I swear. He just flopped over and died or something!"

Wheeljack looked at her like she had grown two heads then saw Perceptor lying comatose on the ground. He walked over and curiously examined the downed scientist while Livewire watched on, balancing on her toes.

"I didn't do it. I don't know what happened. He just-I don't know-went kaput, fell over like the giant from jack in the bean stalk or the Iron Giant."

Wheeljack waved his hand at her. "Calm down. His logic processor just glitched. What in Primus did you say to him? I haven't seen this happen since…well, I can't even remember. He never glitches."

Livewire felt only partially relieved that she hadn't somehow killed him. "The truth."

"Of?"

She repeated the same thing she told Perceptor and braced for the worst.

"Interesting. Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I don't know. Maybe I thought you would think I was crazy, throw me at the government, or go all mad scientist and dissect me like one of those aliens from District 9."

Wheeljack looked offended. "I wouldn't do any of that, though it might be an idea to figure out how it happened - without the dissecting part, or a little dissecting."

Livewire gave him an unappreciative eye, but felt like an enormous load had been lifted off her shoulders. "I think I've been dead for over a year. The last time I remember anything as a human it was 2012."

"What was your human designation? Maybe I can look into your records and see if there are any clues there."

She felt the panic returning. "I would rather not alert other people to my coming back from the dead."

Perceptor groaned and put a hand over his helm. "What hit me? Are we under attack?"

Wheeljack gave him a hand to help him up and said to her, "That won't be necessary, but if it turns out to be true I will have to tell Prime about it."

"Alert Prime about what?" Perceptor asked again.

"That Livewire used to be a human." Wheeljack replied cheerily.

Perceptor's optics went white and disappeared to black in a burst of static and he sagged back to the floor.

"Whoops," Wheeljack chuckled and lowered the unconscious Autobot back to the ground.

"Why do you have to tell anyone?" It was enough that just he and Perceptor knew. She decided they were smart enough to figure something out without Optimus Prime getting involved.

"Because he is my Prime and I can't hide important things from him." She didn't understand, but if he was going to take her seriously then she wasn't about to argue.

He stood and walked over to one of the computers in the room. "Perceptor can work on repairing his logic circuits. Let's see what we can dig up from the human internet."

Livewire joined him and entrusted him with her personal information as he hovered his fingers over a strange looking panel that responded to his touch like a keyboard. Different websites flashed onto the screen and Wheeljack's fingers flew across the board.

"There's some encryption, but nothing too complicated." A screen popped up with her human face on it. "There we go…Carrie…deceased in a motor vehicle accident on October twenty fourth. Age twenty three." A few more pages popped onto the screen that had documented photographs of the crash site. An over turned eighteen-wheeler and numerous photos of her vehicle smashed in so many places it must have rolled over several times. There was blood seeping from the shattered windows and staining the pavement below. The next shot was an autopsy picture and she had to look away. Gore didn't usually bother her, except when she was looking at her own dead body.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Wheeljack quickly closed the pages and gave her retreating form a concerned look. She paced as her fuel tank did little flips. She had _died_. It was finally starting to sink in. She was dead, a ghost or something else. Her original body was shredded, cold and decaying in a grave now. There would be no going back to normal. She would be stuck like this for the rest of her life.

Perceptor rose for a second time, less disoriented and watching her with critical optics.

"Hey," Wheeljack said softly. "Look what I've got." She saw the energon stick in his hand and felt sick all over again. She would never get the chance to eat a hamburger or eat ice cream. She would never feel the itchy feeling of grass when it rubbed against her skin or how soft her bed was.

"Come here." Wheeljack knelt down next and hugged her face to his chest.

"I'm dead," her voice shook with her rattling frame. "I died and there's no way to change back. I'm stuck like this forever." She wanted so badly to cry, but her optics didn't have tear ducts.

"Shh. I believe you. Your human body might be dead, but you're still alive so it's not all bad. We'll figure out something." He looked up at Perceptor who looked decidedly uncomfortable, but he nodded at the engineer's questioning optics.

Perceptor ghosted about the room as Wheeljack held Livewire while she grieved. Images of her short life flashed before her eyes, memories that only someone who lived could remember. Like the first time she made friends, the first time she slipped on the stairs and nearly broke her arm, the day she graduated from High School, the day she decided to get a fish instead of a dog or cat when she took an aquatic class. Her life was over, all of it. She would never be able to do the same things she used to, nor would she experience a future like she had imagined.

Eventually she had nothing left. Her mind and body were exhausted. She didn't need tears and a puffy face to tire herself out. Her chest felt heavy and constricted like an elephant was sitting on it, squeezing the life out of her. The uncontrollable shaking that had overtaken her frame quelled and she weakly tried to back away from Wheeljack. He let go without protest took in her dimmed optics.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted solemnly. There was nowhere to go, her life was in shambles, and she had nothing.

"Sure you do. You pick up the pieces and start over. It's tough, but it can be done."

Livewire shook her head. "I'm not even human anymore. How am I supposed to start over? Where?"

Perceptor appeared next to Wheeljack. "Here." He said simply and laid a hand on her helm. "We brought you here, somehow. I'm not sure if I entirely believe it being possible, but we'll help you find a new path."

She looked up into his soft blue optics and tried to smile or say thank you, but all she could manage was looking back down at the floor and nudging her head further into his palm.


	6. Chapter 6

Livewire: Chapter 3

Perceptor dropped his laser scalpel on the table and turned around with restraint. "For the last time, please don't put anything on top of the energon converter. That equipment is sensitive and easily contaminated."

Wheeljack still had his hands around the gutted arm piece he had just placed on the machine and picked it back up. Livewire watched him throw his head back in silent exasperation and move over to the corner he was quickly making a mess of. Perceptor went back to the telescope in front of him to construct a delicate microchip he had been fiddling with for the last few hours. According to Wheeljack they were trying to find a way to strengthen the armor the Autobots wore to protect them against a machine the Decepticons built that somehow sent out a signal that could shatter plating. Perceptor tried to explain a theoretical treatment in more chemically oriented terms that Livewire didn't have a prayer of understanding.

At that point in time Livewire barley registered the two mechs bustling about Perceptor's lab. A blue hue glowed against her dark armor and her optics were scanning the data pad lying on the floor between her paws. There was something morbidly fascinating about being possibly the first person to ever read their own obituary. She lightly touched her nose to the device and registered a new search, bringing up her parent's social page. Livewire always badgered her parents to wipe their account and close it. It bothered her they were so willing to put their entire lives on the internet, but now it was the only link she had to them. It crossed her mind to try calling them or see if it was possible to meet them in private, but the further she scrolled down their wall, the more she realized that would do more harm than good.

A year ago their posts had slowed to almost nothing as they grieved, then in the last three months they had been updating their status regularly and their tone was happier. Apparently they had discovered hiking in remote places according to their boastful pictures of waterfalls and mountain ranges. In several pictures a young retriever sporting a red backpack sat at her parent's feet that hadn't been around when she was alive. Her parents used to go white water rafting and skydiving before she was born. After having her, they went camping and canoeing as a family, but slowly stopped going as Livewire got older. She was happy for them.

Despite her dislike for the site, Livewire made a quick account and left an anonymous reply on their wall. _Don't stop dreaming_. It was a phrase her mother used to recite when she was little and being teased for acting out her desire to be an astronaut. It was a short phase in her life, but the words had stuck to her subconscious like ghost.

Clicking through the site Livewire found her old friends had also moved on with their lives. The news of her death had been nothing more than a tragic accident they briefly mentioned. Again, not so surprising, though her ears flattened. She quit looking at the personal lives of the people she grew up around and went through the world news. Other than a few possible innovations, not much had changed that she would call shocking. Real life and recent politics quickly became uninteresting and she soon found herself playing an online game. Livewire spent most of the time trying to figure out how to use her nose and paws to manipulate the character on screen around maddeningly hard obstacles. She was just starting to form a technique that involved her claws when someone tapped on the long, swept back tips of her shoulders.

"I asked if you wanted to come." Wheeljack's head fins blinked rapidly into her ogling optics.

"Huh? Go where?" she asked intelligibly.

"To the Dinobot den to help me with maintenance."

Anything was better than sitting around Perceptor's lab brooding about her past life or playing flash games so she gave him a nod.

Perceptor stayed behind as she followed Wheeljack who cradled a large metal toolbox overflowing with parts. Some pieces kept falling out that Livewire would scoop up in her mouth and deposit in the box Wheeljack would lower just enough for her to drop parts in without stopping.

Livewire had just finished retrieving a coiled shock absorber when she asked, "What are the Dinobots?"

Wheeljack's optics brightened. "You'll love them. I created them to resemble earth's physically powerful ancient creatures."

There was only one conclusion she could come to. "You made Dinosaur robots?" She felt a little jealous and wondered why he hadn't made her a dinosaur. It would have been so much cooler than a wolf.

"Of course I did. Your planet has exceptionally interesting biological designs. They're minimalistic yet still magnificently functional and versatile."

She canted her head, wondering if he had seen other planets with different kinds of life. She would have asked if she hadn't been blinded by sunlight. Livewire froze at the entrance of the Ark as a cool autumn breeze brushed across her armor. Her sensors told her the direction of the wind, but she couldn't feel it with the same sensitivity as human skin. Grass crunched under her paws and the dirt caved unnaturally at her new weight; her soul ached with the remembrance of what the world should feel like outside of her new shell. Livewire's frame rattled with a chill that traveled down her spine and a soft whine escaped her vocals.

Wheeljack was several paces ahead when she stepped the rest of the way out from the shadow of the Ark's open mouthed entrance. The sun beat down on her armor and her optics dimmed to accommodate for the harsh light. It didn't feel warm and inviting like it used to, she felt like an alien to her own planet. Livewire kicked up dirt and with a few long strides was back by Wheeljack's side, her head hung low and taking how her metal paws crushed the earth under them.

"Here we are." Wheeljack put his box of parts down in front of a massive cave entrance and put his hands on his hips.

Livewire took a cautious step inside to take a look and all she could see was darkness - until several pairs of brilliant blue optics ignited. A feral roar reverberated from the cave and she leapt out of the way of a column of fire so hot it could have singed her armor if it were a few degrees closer. _That _she felt. The heat was so intense that her natural reaction was to get away as fast as possible even though another part of her suggested she would have been fine.

"What is that?!" She ducked behind Wheeljack and bared her fangs as a large gray mass exited the cave. The first thing that emerged was a mouth full of teeth big enough to bite her clean in two followed by the unmistakable mass of a robotic tyrannosaurus rex.

"Good morning Grimlock." Wheeljack said cheerfully.

Grimlock lowered his massive upper girth and nudged his snout into Wheeljack's hand. "You bring energon treats? Grimlock love energon treats."

"Of course. A well behaved Dinobot like you deserves them."

"Grimlock been a good Dinobot, keep others from eating small animals and setting forest on fire."

Wheeljack bent over the toolbox to pull out a handful of energon sticks and used his free hand to pry the behemoth's mouth open. He dropped the acrid-sweet smelling energon into Grimlock's mouth and snap his hand away before the dinosaur could add his body parts to the meal. Grimlock made loud snapping noises, gobbling the treats up like an alligator.

"Energon treats delicious," he said happily and slapped his tail against the cave wall, sending loose boulders at the entrance crashing to the ground. "Grimlock says get out here or Grimlock eat all the energon treats." His thunderous shout echoed into the cave and there was a click of silence before a triceratops emerged from the darkness. Behind it a stegosaurus and a diplodocus lumbered slowly out. All four of them towered over Wheeljack and Livewire.

"Wheeljack bring energon treats for Slag?" The triceratops nudged his nose towards Wheeljack's hand full of another batch of energon.

"No, he brought treats for Sludge." Sludge's long neck reached over Slag and plucked a stick from Wheeljack's fist.

"No fair." Slag slammed his horned head into Sludge's side, sending the Dinobot toppling sideways with a snarl.

"I'll show you fair." Sludge opened his mouth wide and sent a jet of fire at Slag's face.

Livewire tried to step around Wheeljack to better see what was going on, but he pushed her back several feet and moved with her to avoid being kicked by a giant foot as the Dinobots turned on each other.

Grimlock roared and swung around to smash his tail on the backs of Sludge and Snarl. "Grimlock order you to stop. Wheeljack here to bring treats and make us fight better. He no can do that when you fight. Save anger for Decepticons."

The quarreling Dinobots released each other from their fangs and bowed their heads silently in submission.

Grimlock's arms were just long enough that he could cross them as he glowered. "That better."

"What is that tiny thing?" the stegosaurus that hadn't joined the short brawl hissed. It stretched around Wheeljack to get a better look and Livewire met the dinosaur with an entranced gaze.

"Ah, this. Snarl, Grimlock, Sludge, Slag." The large 'bots gave their full attention to Wheeljack. "Meet Livewire. Livewire, meet the Dinobots."

Grimlock's snout came within inches of her optics and sniffed around her body like a bloodhound looking for a scent.

"What this Livewire for?" Sludge groused and slapped his tail on the ground unhappily.

"It look like that tiny Decepticon." Slag pawed at the ground, lowered his head, and shook it aggressively.

Wheeljack put his outstretched arm between her and the Dinobots. "She's not a Decepticon, she's an Autobot I built like you, but not."

"Like us, but not? Sludge not know what that mean. Either Livewire is or is not a Dinobot."

"That tiny thing no Dinobot. Looks more like a snack." Slag turned his massive frilled head up and to the side, critically gauging her defensive stance.

Wheeljack held a palm full of energon treats out to them like a peace offering. "Livewire isn't a Dinobot in the physical sense." Slag tried to snap away the energon, but Wheeljack pulled them just out of reach. "But she's new and not fully antiquated with the Autobots like you are."

Livewire wasn't sure what he was getting at, but something about what he said had Grimlock's cognitive gears turning.

"Livewire was built by Wheeljack like us Dinobots." The aforementioned engineer nodded at the contemplative T-rex. "That make her one of us even if she tiny like that one annoying Decepticon. She look weak, but we Dinobots can make her tough."

Livewire wasn't sure if she liked the idea of giant dinosaurs with brutish tendencies trying to make her tougher. She was beginning to wonder about Wheeljack's sanity for bringing her out here.

A shadow raced over their heads and a giant metal bird shape landed gracefully on the cave's entrance with its wings extended and its elongated head tilted sideways to look at the group below. It folded its enormous wingspan against its body like a bat and opened its serrated beak. "Tiny Livewire is a weird Dinobot and not Dinobot."

Wheeljack made a sound akin to clearing his throat. "That would be the last of the group, Swoop."

The pterodactyl briefly opened his wings and let out a bellowing screech of, "Me Swoop!" before deflating like a ruffled bird.

"Slag no care what Livewire is. Slag hungry." The triceratops knocked over Wheeljack's toolbox, scattering tools and parts across the grass. He pierced a metal container with the tip of his beak, revealing a glow of pink.

"Be patient, let me get that." Wheeljack pushed against the Dinobot's head and Slag stepped back so Wheeljack could press a button on the side of the container, popping the top off for easy access to the energon inside. He turned it upside down and dumped a pile larger than what could physically fit inside of a container the size of his hand.

"How did you do that?" Livewire asked, still shocked that she hadn't been disemboweled.

"Oh, this? I designed it to have a subspace capability that-"

"Not that," she interrupted. "How did you get them to change their mind so easily?"

Wheeljack was picking up parts off the ground, cradling them in one arm. "Easy, just talk to them in simple terms - and don't make any sudden movements."

"Wheeljack!" She huffed and the engineer shoved a wrench in her direction which she automatically took in her mouth.

"Just teasing. Talk plainly and make sure Grimlock is the one to understand what you're trying to say and things usually turn out alright." He stood and walked over to Snarl who had his head buried in the pile of energon that was encircled by the Dinobots. "Bring that over here, would you?"

Livewire trotted cautiously to Wheeljack's side, mindful of the giant spiked tail only a few feet away. He dropped his burden on the ground and pulled off Snarl's shoulder plate. The inside was caked with dirt and detritus, and to Livewire's untrained eye, a few of the components looked well worn.

Wheeljack took the wrench from her jaws and tapped it against Snarl's side. "I'm going to show you how to care for a Dinobot."

The two of them worked methodically on each Dinobot, clearing away dirt with special solvents and replacing stripped parts that, according to Wheeljack, had to be replaced every six months because of the immense amount of stress the Dinobots put on their bodies from throwing their weight around. Grimlock was the worst off with a partially busted knee joint, it had taken them several hours to fix that alone. Eventually, they made it to the last Dinobot who was mercifully the cleanest and in need of the least amount of repairs, Swoop.

Livewire had just finished scraping some dirt out of a crevice of armor with her claws when she wondered aloud, "How come I've never seen the Dinobots on the news?"

Wheeljack strained to tighten the last thread of a bolt into Swoop's wing joint. "The human government said something about them being a necessary evil, but bad press so they don't let the media shoot any footage of them. It's ridiculous if you ask me."

Swoop flapped his wings, dislodging Wheeljack and ignoring the engineer's unhappy squawk. "The humans no like us Dinobots. They think we dumb and break too much of their stuff."

Harsh words, even if they were directed at robotic dinosaurs with a speech impediment. Livewire could understand the concern, but didn't know why they were treated so poorly. "I don't think you're dumb."

Swoop chirped and nudged her with the tip of his beak. "Me Swoop like Livewire. You not mean like other Autobots and humans."

She wondered if he would be singing a different tune if he knew she used to be human, but she welcomed the complement.

Wheeljack threw the worn bolt from Swoop's wing into his toolbox and attempted to wipe away some of the grime on his hands. "That should do it. They're good to go until the next battle."

Livewire was pawing at a stray wire she found half impounded into the dirt when his comment struck a chord. "Have you been fighting the Decepticons a lot lately?" She hadn't had the chance to catch up on recent news.

Wheeljack's demeanor darkened and his shoulders slumped forwards. "There's been a slight spike in their activity, but nothing significant. Their latest targets have been abandoned mines and the occasional human energon factory."

She wondered what mines had to do with anything. If they were old they probably didn't have many precious minerals left behind. Then again, the Decepticons had a habit of going after the strangest and seemingly most useless things and turning them into death machines. They were resourceful if nothing else.

Wheeljack hefted up his toolbox. "Let's head back to the Ark."

The sun had almost set by the time they made back to the mouth of the ship that had crashed into the side of Mount St. Hilary over a millennia ago. At the entrance a mostly blue Autobot was leaning against the exterior wall, his attention engaged with a data pad as a slimmer and distinctly feminine 'bot fumed next to him.

"Are you even listening to me?"

The mech noncommittally nodded his head. "I hear you Arcee, but I'm not going to stop any time soon. There's just too much the Autobots could gain, that I could uncover."

"You're going to get yourself killed! What if you get sucked in and can never come back? What good would you be to the Autobots then?"

"Evening Skids, Arcee," Wheeljack greeted.

Arcee, the light blue femme with pink accents crossed her arms and turned angrily towards Wheeljack. "Help me knock some sense into this guy. Everything I say goes in one audio receptor and out the other." She tugged her optics in Skid's direction several times. The mech was still reading his data pad as if she had said nothing at all.

Wheeljack managed to shrug despite the tool box taking up both his hands. "What do you want me to do about it? If you and Prime can't change his mind, no one can."

Arcee rolled her optics and dropped her arms to her sides. "I'm not giving up."

"Arcee, please. I came out here to get some peace and quiet." Skids said in the least condescending way possible. He finally looked up and his optics brightened upon seeing Livewire. "Taking your new invention out for a test run?"

"No." Wheeljack said brusquely. "Just doing some routine repairs on the Dinobots."

Skids slumped further into the wall. "I still don't understand why you keep them around. They led to an important discovery, but the possibilities of their ability on the battle field have fallen into a repeating rut of wonton destruction."

For the first time Livewire witnessed Wheeljack's faux wings twitch. "The Dinobots aren't something you can just throw away. They're sentient," he said evenly.

"About as sentient as a drone hell bent on destroying its creator. Wheeljack, they aren't real Cybertronians. Their sparks aren't the real thing and it shows," Arcee cut in somberly.

Wheeljack looked between the two Autobots quietly and hefted his load to get a better grip on it. "I need to finish repairing Ironhide's favorite blaster. You know how he gets when he doesn't have Maybelline in working order. If you'll excuse me."

"Ironhide trusts you with that?" Skids asked offhandedly.

Livewire followed Wheeljack inside and glanced back to Arcee holding one of the arms at her side, a frown on her face, and Skids already with his head buried in his data pad.

She slowed her steps as Wheeljack zeroed in on the hall ahead of them until she eventually stopped to watch him disappear around a corner. She had the distinct feeling he needed to be alone, a feeling she was all too familiar with. Her ears flattened and straightened repeatedly and she looked around the hallway, feeling at a loss. She was beginning to hate how dependent she was on Wheeljack and Perceptor for direction. Without them around she didn't know where to go or what to do. She didn't have an apartment to hole up in or a data pad with internet to drown herself in. In the Ark she felt like a guest who needed permission to go anywhere despite the free reign she was given to wonder its halls. No one seemed to outright object to her presence, anyway.

Her ears shot up and she and she took off at a casual run.

The mental map she had been forming in her head allowed her to trace her footsteps back to the surveillance room and its solidly closed door. She scratched at it with and a moment later it swished open.

"Who-oh. What's Wheeljack's thing doing here?" Sideswipe looked down at her with unabashed disappointment.

"Nice to see you too," she greeted flatly. "Can I come in?"

"Whatever." Sideswipe slinked back into the room, leaving the door open.

Inside Red Alert was plugged into the surveillance computer, typing away at the touch sensitive board, while a familiar black and white Autobot was lounging in an adjacent char, one leg swung over his knee and his foot bobbing to a beat only he could hear. Jazz stopped tapping the back of his seat as Sideswipe took up a third chair to resume his post in the cramped room.

"Well hello there. I didn't expect to be seeing you again so soon." Jazz uncrossed his legs and smiled down at Livewire, but remained sitting back in his chair. "What brings you here?"

"I was wondering if I could see footage from Decepticon attacks during the last six months," Livewire stated.

Jazz's welcoming smile waivered. "What do you need to see those for?"

"I heard the Decepticons were attacking abandoned mines and no one knew why. I wanted to run through the footage to see if there was anything that might have been overlooked."

Jazz leaned forward. "I'm pretty sure Red Alert has combed through them already, but I suppose it won't hurt to take a second look." He elbowed the mech next to him, snapping Red Alert to the present and receiving a glare that hardly phased Jazz who motioned to Livewire. "Little Wire here wants to wants to take a look at some surveillance footage."

Red Alert pivoted his chair to stare wide-eyed at Livewire and pointed and shot an accusing finger her way. "When did she get in here? I didn't see her on any of the cameras, she wasn't heading this way. Get out! I won't have sneaky abominations in the security room!" Red Alert stood abruptly, startling Sideswipe into finally looking up.

Livewire's hackles rose and her legs spread out into a defensive squat. "I'm just trying to help," she said, guarded.

"No, you can't help because you're a spy against the Autobots, I know it. Get out before I eradicate you right here," Red Alert seethed.

Sideswipe gave Red Alert an incredulous look. "Don't you think you're exaggerating? What makes her so special compared to everyone else that you have to go and blow an extra gasket over?"

Red Alert's hands moved through the air as if he were contemplating grasping something and squeezing the life out of it. "I'm not exaggerating. Livewire is a serious security threat and shouldn't be allowed in here let alone have access to sensitive information."

"That didn't answer my question," Sideswipe mumbled.

Jazz stood and used his arms to motion her backwards. "I'll get her out of your wires, just cool your jets."

Livewire was escorted out of the room and the door closed to the security room with a menacing hiss.

"What did I do?" She asked the saboteur. There wasn't a single thing she could think of that she might have done to offend the security officer so thoroughly. It made her more angry than confused. She hadn't done a darned thing to him.

"It's nothing you did." Jazz patted her between her ears much the same way Bluestreak usually would. "He just hasn't warmed up to the idea of you being previously human."

Her jaw fell open and her chest began to throb. "Wh-how do you know?"

"Optimus told me along with the other officers, including Red back there." Jazz pointed backwards at the door they had just exited. "Don't worry about it too much. He gets his belts in a knot whenever there's something he doesn't understand and can't lock it up in a maximum security vault."

"When did you find out? When did Optimus?" She hadn't approached the Autobot leader yet and to her knowledge neither had Perceptor nor Wheeljack.

"I found out this morning, I don't know about Optimus."

It had to have been Perceptor. She hadn't seen him for most of the day. The next time she saw him she was going to give him a piece of her mind. She had wanted to tell Optimus Prime personally. "You believe I'm human?"

Jazz bent down, put a hand under his chin, and rocked forwards on the balls of his pedes to get a closer look. "Aren't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't think anyone would believe me." She leaned away from his keen optics.

"I wasn't sure what to believe when I heard it," Jazz admitted, "but Optimus is taking your claim seriously so I might as well follow his lead until I decide if you really are human or not for myself. The only one who didn't take it well was Prowl. The poor fellow blew another logic circuit." He grinned with morbid satisfaction at the last part.

Jazz stood back to his normal height. "Livewire, right?"

She nodded slowly, wondering what would happen if he decided she wasn't human, or if she was. Livewire still wasn't sure which scenario would be worse.

"I'll see what I can do about those tapes so don't worry about Red Alert. He's just doing his job and tends to jump the gun a bit."

_A bit? _She wanted to ask, but instead said, "Are you sure that's alright? If he really doesn't want me to see them I won't push it." She was still trying not to piss off any of the giant robots for her own health.

"It can't hurt. It's not like the Decepticon's activities are a secret and I'll take help where I can get it. You don't seem like the diabolical kind anyhow."

"You barely know me," she said skeptically.

"True," Jazz smirked, "but I'm an excellent judge of character."

A thrumming sound made Livewire's ears twitched and she looked curiously past Jazz who followed her gaze.

"What are you-" Jazz began until a go cart-like contraption veered wildly around the corner.

"Look out!" A high pitch squeal that could only belong to a human reverberated above the buzzing engine the vehicle. It shot under their feet Jazz and Livewire pranced around the rocketing object to avoid having their pedes run over.

Livewire blinked owlishly at the runaway cart wavering back and forth down the opposite hall. "What did I just see?"

"Scrap!" Jazz transformed into his Porsche alt mode to race after the human and Livewire took off to join him.

* * *

**Author's note: **A quick thank you and shout out to _gillian of arenal _for suggesting the addition of Skids.


	7. Chapter 7

Livewire: Chapter 7

The only reason Livewire kept up with Jazz as they raced after the rogue vehicle was because of the tight quarters of the hallways and a constant need to swerve around mechs and tight corners. They were approaching another bend in the corridor when a high pitch scream of terror erupted and the construction orange go kart spun in a wild circle to avoid colliding with the upcoming wall. Livewire took the momentary halt to leap over Jazz, her battle computer worked overtime, informing her precisely where to connect her paws to push off the side of the wall and land in front of the cart straightened and shot down the new corridor. She brought her front foot down hard on the hood of the vehicle, smashing its front bumper into the ground and flinging its rear into the air. The front wheels screeched as they spun against the metal floor, Livewire could smell burning rubber as she struggled to keep it from moving. It was slowly sliding from her grasp when Jazz transformed, performing a three hundred and sixty degree turn on one hand to avoid a collision.

"Hold on!" Jazz threw a circular device like a Frisbee that magnetically attached itself to the go kart and sent out a pulse that abruptly stopped all of its motor functions. The wheels locked and Livewire let the front end go, allowing the back portion to crash back down to the floor.

A human shakily unstrapped himself from the roll cage and more so fell than climbed out of the buggy. "I thought I was going to die," he breathed heavily, doubled over and clutching the ground.

"You ok there, Daniel?" Jazz bent inquired.

Daniel swallowed. "Yeah, but I don't know about Wheelie." He pointed at the orange go kart to accentuate his point, it made a loud popping sound and smoke began to billow from under its hood.

Livewire could have sworn it sunk on its wheels in the same instant and it suddenly dawned on her, "That's a transformer?"

She was ignored when a stocky yellow and green Autobot jogged up to them. "Primus, what was that all about?" He was looking at Jazz, but Daniel was the one to speak up.

"Wheelie wanted to show me a new upgrade to his rotors and lost his breaks in a mid-air jump."

"Why is it always you two idiots," the Autobot grumble.

Daniel shrugged, resigned to his fate. "Why are you always such a stick in the mud, Brawn?"

Brawn crossed his thick arms sourly. "Says the human who follows everything that rhyming runt tells him to do."

Daniel shook his fist. "Don't make fun of Wheelie."

"Brawn, why don't you take Wheelie to Ratchet? I've radioed ahead to let him know what happened and that he has a patient on the way. While you do that I'll take Daniel to the rec room." Jazz hastily offered.

Brawn uncurled his arms. "Fine, but make sure his creator hears about this." Brawn gently picked up Wheelie in vehicle mode and stomped off down the hall.

Daniel sighed heavily. "Phew, why is that guy always on my case? He's worse than Arcee."

"Because, little man, you're always in _need _of someone to be on your case." Jazz chuckled. "By the way, that was some quick thinking on your part, nice moves."

He gave Livewire a thumbs up and she felt heat rise in her chest. "Thank you," she said humbly.

"I've never seen you before." Daniel looked up and canted his head at her. "Did Fujiyama build you or are you one of Wheeljack's experiments?"

Livewire wasn't sure she wanted to answer and took too long thinking over an appropriate reply when Jazz filled the anticipating silence.

"Wheeljack and Perceptor built her. She's a special case like the Dinobots, so don't be shy to say hello." Jazz offered a hand to Daniel and he willingly climbed on.

"Oh, okay I guess. Hi there wolf lady." He waved from Jazz's palm and Livewire internally cringed at the nickname.

"Hi," she simply returned.

She followed Jazz to the rec room while Daniel boasted about his wild ride with Wheelie; their short walk couldn't end fast enough and she was relieved when they entered the rec room. Jazz put Daniel down on a table were three Autobots were seated around Sparkplug and another human male who were playing cards.

"Hey, Daniel, Jazz. Care to join us?" Sparkplug asked upon noticing them.

Jazz politely declined, "No thanks, I'm just here to make a delivery and rely a message."

All eyes and optics fell on Daniel.

"What did you do this time?" Daniel shrank away from Arcee's blazing optics.

"Nothing! Why do you always assume I've done something?"

"Because you typically_ have_ done something." A red mech chuckled next to Arcee.

"This isn't a laughing matter, Cliffjumper." Arcee reprimanded and the mech held up his hands disarmingly with a lopsided smile.

"Spike, say something. He's your son," she added.

Spike stood up from the abandoned card game and rubbed the back of his head. "I think he's old enough to know what he's doing. You can't baby him forever, Arcee."

Arcee stood and with her hands braced on the table. "You would both be considered mere sparklings if you were cybertronian."

Daniel turned on her, long contained anger brimming his reddened face. "That's the problem. I'm _not_ cybertronian, my life is already half over. Dad's right, you need to stop babying me and let me live my life."

Arcee looked like she had been struck as Daniel ran to the edge of the table and used the Bumblebee's leg to jump to the ground and flee from the room.

"Should we just let him go like that?" Bumblebee asked with concern glowing in his optics.

Arcee was silently gazing at the table and Cliffjumper rested a hand on her back, a small frown on his face plates.

"He didn't mean what said, he's just frustrated." Cliffjumper reassured her.

"Oh man," Spike turned around and froze at the stern look Sparkplug was giving him. "What?"

"Just because he's an adult doesn't mean you can let him get away with being stupid or inconsiderate." Sparkplug pointed at the door. "Go and have a long talk with him before I have to get Carly involved."

Spike stiffened at the mention of his wife. "Don't! I'll talk to him, just don't tell her about this."

Bumblebee helped Spike to the ground and the human rushed out of the room in hopes of finding his son before he did anything else he might regret.

"Kids," Sparkplug sighed.

"Yours or his?" Arcee grouched.

"Both," Sparkplug said easily and bent down to collect the scattered playing cards. "They might not say it," he stood back up, "but they know they still need their parents, no matter how old they get."

Livewire looked at the doorway, thoughts of her parents coming to mind. She never had a bad relationship with them, but always had trouble telling them how she felt. She could somewhat sympathize with Daniel wanting to be left to his own devices and angry that no one understood.

"Something wrong?" Jazz asked, snapping her out of a somber reminiscence.

"Just tired," she said truthfully.

"Jazz, sure you don't want to play a game?"

Jazz turned to Sparkplug. "Nah, I've got to get going. Catch ya later." He waved goodbye and stooped down close to Livewire to whisper, "Don't get into trouble while I'm gone and I'll see about those tapes."

She bristled at the smirk in his tone and turned her head away from Jazz as he slipped out of the room. _The nerve!_

"I'll try a few games. Lay 'em on me." Cliffjumper motioned to Sparkplug who grinned at the mech in turn.

Cliffjumper elbowed Arcee. "Play with me."

She glared and Cliffjumper's optics softened and his posture slouched downward. "Please?"

She vented. "Fine, give me those."

Livewire peered over the table curiously. "Can I watch?"

She didn't know how to play cards, but the thought of robots trying to play a human card game intrigued her.

"I don't see why not." Cliffjumper shrugged his massive shoulders and Livewire made herself comfortable on the floor nearby.

Livewire hadn't realized she had fallen into a full recharge until her systems were rebooting. Her optics onlined to a red arm wavering close to her face and the feeling of something sticking out of her neck. She looked up and saw Perceptor kneeling on the floor next to her, his scanner in hand.

"Finally online, I see." He gave her a quick smile and disconnected his hand held from her neck.

She looked around the room to find she was still in the rec room, void any Autobots. It made her wonder how long she had been out.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep in here," she said sheepishly. How embarrassing, she couldn't believe she had passed out despite all the noise Bumblebee and Cliffjumper were making. The two of them were really going at it the last she could remember. The competitive streak in them was fiercer than Marissa when she played monopoly at the company Christmas parties.

"Your energy levels are abysmally low. You most likely fell into recharge to conserve fuel." He reached down on his other side and presented her with an energon cube. "I don't know what compelled you to let it get so low. Drink this and you should be fine."

She stared at the container that had been placed in front of her.

"What's wrong? I promise there's nothing in it. It's a hundred percent low grade energon."

"Can I really drink that?" It smelled different from energon sticks. Instead of acrid-sweet it smelled pure acrid with a hint of gasoline. Nothing about it was appetizing - not that the energon sticks were, but at least they were small and she could swallow them whole.

"Of course. Wheeljack has given you one before, hasn't he?" A small frown crossed his face when she didn't immediately answer.

"He gave me energon sticks, or treats."

"That's it?"

She nodded.

Perceptor clenched his hands into fists. "Blasphemy. The next time I see that mech I'm going to have a word with him. The Dinobots might refuse to eat anything but those dreadfully low energy sources, but that's no excuse to deprive you of a proper refueling. No wonder you're needing to recharge so often."

He pushed the cube a little closer. "Drink it slowly. If you've never had it before it may take a moment for your fuel tank to adjust."

She looked dubiously between him and the cube. "How am I supposed to drink it? I don't have hands to hold it up and I don't have a tongue to lap it up like a dog."

Perceptor looked shocked. "You need to transform first."

Livewire swore something inside her glitched for a fraction of a second. "I can…transform?"

"Of course," Perceptor said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

When was anyone going to tell her this? She had been walking around on four legs for over a week and thought she would never have the use of hands again.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" She whined incredulously.

"I thought you knew."

Her pitched waivered an octave higher as she tried her hardest not to burst out in anger. "No, how was I supposed to know?"

"The transformation sequence was imbedded into your core programing."

She growled, but felt too tired to fight it. That short nap hadn't been enough to make her feel better and there was a sluggish ache about her frame. "Just tell me how to change," she cycled in defeat.

Perceptor gave her an encouraging smile. "It's not something that can be taught. You have to figure out how best to do it yourself."

"I thought you said it was programed into this body so I should be able to just flip a switch and make it happen, right?"

He shook his helm. "Afraid not. It's, how you humans best put it, ambiguous instinct."

"I don't have a transformer instinct."

"Transforming instinct," Perceptor corrected.

"I don't have transformer instincts either…Can robots have instincts?"

Perceptor held up a finger. "We are not robots. Our sparks set us apart from machines, and yes, according to some researchers we do have a base instinct that includes the want for preservation and the ability to transform that is somehow apart of our coding, yet independent of it."

Livewire shifted uncomfortably. "I don't have a spark," meaning she couldn't possibly have this transforming instinct.

He didn't miss a beat. "No, but you're a special case that goes beyond our ability to understand and falls under the territory of spark theology. It's clear you're sentient, somehow."

A nervous chuckle escaped her. "Then what am I? A ghost? They have souls, I think. If they exist." At this point what came out of her mouth was the equivalent of word vomit. She had been avoiding thinking about how she was still alive and didn't have any clear theories. It had been itching at the back of her subconscious and she had been pushing back, blocking the thoughts behind a barrier.

"As implausible as it sounds, maybe. There's no other explanation I can come up with at present other than you accidentally recorded data before being activated and it corrupted your memory core. That's nearly impossible as well since your memory circuits would have needed to be active."

She turned defensive. "They aren't fake memories. Ask me anything. I'll even tell you about the stray dog I used to throw hotdogs to on the way to school every day, or the quarters I would take from the family vacation jar. Not even my mom knows about those."

Perceptor held up a hand. "I'm not trying to make a liar out of you. I already stated I believe your claim. The next step is figuring out how, and even then we may never come a clear conclusion. I've been discussing possibilities with Wheeljack when possible, but we've only begun to scratch the surface."

Livewire sat up on her haunches and stared listlessly at the glowing energon. "Fine, can we just focus on figuring out how to make me transform? I miss having hands."

Perceptor stood back to give her room. "Very well. Why don't you try imagining your transformation? You're in this form now, but in an instant you could change, like this." He transformed into a giant microscope and his armored plating had barely finished sliding into place when he exploded back into robot form. The change looked immensely complicated, and honestly, a little painful. She couldn't imagine her body twisting like that.

"Heh, right," she mumbled. Livewire stood and offlined her optics, she tried to imagine herself as a robot on two legs and all she could see was black silhouette and feel a whole lot of nothing. "uh-change! Transform? Twist…" She onlined her optics, feeling more like an idiot than before. "Nothing's happening."

Perceptor gave her an encouraging smile. "Don't-"

"Are you ready for some football?!"

A small blue and white blur blindsided Livewire and crawled onto her back, kicking at her to go like a rider on a horse. She screeched and catapulted forwards, nearly tripping over her own feet. A surge of an equivalent to adrenaline switched on with her battle computer and her body suddenly exploded, shifting and changing until she was grasping at the floor in surprise.

"What the hell was that for?! I should kill you for that." She glared at the miniature mech smaller than any transformer she had ever seen. He was spinning a football on his finger and grinningly impishly up at her while Perceptor lowered his hands that he had attempted to shield his face with.

"Even after I helped you transform?" The mech asked smugly.

Her optics jerked downward and instead of the paws was expecting, hands with thin metal digits flexed and she brought one up to her face and inspected the strangely complex mechanisms of her fingers. Encircling her wrists was a bracelet like configurations that looked like the remains of her claws. Picking at them, concluded she was right - somehow her paws had broken apart and retracted in a circular pattern. Looking downwards, she had a chest that was reminiscent of a sports bra with a yellow glass dome fitting snuggly between the split breast plates and her body tapered appropriately in a feminine physique, ending in thick calves and boot-like pedes.

"Not bad." The small Autobot said, a hand resting under his chin as his visored optics critically appraised her. "It looks like they gave you the same mold as Arcee with a few personal touches. That optic shape is unusual, I guess to mirror your beast mode, and the crown of your helm has a swept back style to it."

She felt the sides of her helm and gripped the pointed protrusions there that covered her audials then felt the top where another spike was swept backwards close to the base of her skull. One sat in the middle of her forehead and extended upwards just past the top of her head.

"I look weird," she whined.

She had the impression the blue and white was rolling his hidden optics. "You haven't even seen what you look like."

"I feel weird," she corrected.

"Well, you have been walking around in your alt mode the whole time. Of course it's going to take some time to get used to your real form."

Alarm bells went off in her head. "Who are you?" Suspicion dripped from her voice.

"The master of sports! Eject, of course. Blaster told me to keep an eye on you, so here I am." He spread his legs and flexed his arms in an uncharming pose.

Livewire slowly stood, pushing out of her crouch with her hands, feeling a little wobbly on her new legs. The ground was looking dauntingly far away. She stood straight with her arms slightly apart in case she fell over, and pinned Eject with a reproachful glare. "Watch me? Why?"

Eject clasped his hands behind his head and kicked at the ground. "Red Alert was blowing a gasket saying he couldn't pick you up on cameras or sensors so Blaster promised I would track your movements to shut him up. I'm just glad to be out of there. The control room is boring and Red Alert won't let me watch baseball on the monitors."

She liked the sound of being untraceable, it meant she wouldn't have to worry about the neurotic bot spying on her. She sometimes imagined him at his desk watching her every move and muttering to himself about how he was going to wirelessly lock her in an incinerator room if she 'accidentally' wondered into it.

"Odd." Perceptor observed her with a thoughtful hand cupping his chin. "Your sensor cloaking functions should only be operational when the battle computer is running. Why do you see the need to have it activated so frequently?"

Livewire gave him an exasperated look. "I don't. I've only used it a couple times."

"Red Alert is correct, you aren't showing up on any of my sensors besides what is directly reflecting into my optics, and even then I wouldn't be able to record your presence, even visually. Maybe-"

Perceptor fell into a rambling contemplation and Livewire looked down at her pedes. She took a step forwards, or tried to. Learning to walk on four feet that provided extra stabilization was one thing, learning to walk on two feet while being significantly higher up with an entirely different center of gravity was another. She stumbled like a drunken idiot and would have fallen over if Perceptor hadn't taken her outstretched hand she had been swinging wildly about in an attempt to right herself.

"Take it slow, one step at a time. Remember, think of where you want to put your foot before moving it," Perceptor reminded.

This body didn't have the neural memories her human one did and this one felt immensely heavier and off balanced. With one stubborn foot step after the next while using Perceptor as balance, she was able to make it across the room after an agonizing fifteen minutes of listening to Eject monologue her progress.

"Strike one!"He blurted whenever she stumbled.

If she almost planted on her face he would whistle, "And there she goes to the outfield! Oh, that was a close one!"

By the tame she made it to the wall across the room she wanted to smash her heel into the cassettes face plate.

"This is stupid. I should be able to walk." She kicked the wall with the toe of her fused foot, an action a small part of her avidly complained about as highly irrational, before turning around. The only reason she was doing better than a newborn scooting about the floor gurgling like an idiot was because her robotic body had enough strength to hold her up. The problem was figuring out how to move correctly.

"Over time your electro neural pathways will recognize where they need to go similar to how you became better at maneuvering in your alternate form." Perceptor helped walk her to a nearby table and gently pushed into a chair.

"Configuring your motor functions can wait a moment. You need to refuel before you fall into a stasis lock, and the energy will help you concentrate." He picked the cube up off the floor and set it down in front of her.

Livewire scrunched her nose at liquid sloshing about its container, a rainbow tint wavering in ribbons across the surface of the pink vat. She really didn't want to drink it, the human side of her was screaming it would kill her while another side chastised the irrational fear. It was then she became aware of her new tongue-like glossia as it clicked against the roof of her mouth.

"Would I be going crazy if I told you I've been hearing a second voice in my head? It's still my voice, but it keeps correcting me like it's a part of my sub-conscience, but not." Her question came out slow and she was afraid to look up and see their reactions. If they didn't think she was insane from claiming to be a resurrected human, hearing voices might finally discredit her, but she couldn't keep quiet about it anymore.

"Does this second voice keep suggesting alternatives to a previous thoughts related to concepts and actions?" Perceptor inquired.

She nodded and fingered the energon cube cupped in her hands, watching the rainbow colors come and go along.

"Then you aren't experiencing crazy of any sort."

She looked curiously up at Perceptor, wondering how hearing voices couldn't label her as insane.

He pointed his 'lecture finger', as she was beginning to call it, into the air and explained, "That is simply your logic processor performing its job. It is designed to rapidly come up with solutions and aid in memory circuit connectivity so you can better and more quickly react appropriately to a situation based on your experiences and internal data feeds."

"You thought it was a voice in your head?" Eject snickered, deserving a glare from Livewire.

The notion she wasn't going out of her mind was comforting, but it didn't mean she liked it. "Can you turn it off?"

Both mechs looked at her like she'd sprouted horns and giant wings.

Bemused, Perceptor asked, "Why on cybertron would you want to shut off one of your primary functions?"

"I already have a conscience and mind of my own, I don't need a second one trying to tell me what to do. It gets downright aggravating sometimes. It's like I have a nagging ghost made from a combination of all my old professors sitting in my brain correcting every other thought."

They looked even more confused at her explanation.

Eject addressed Perceptor nervously, "Maybe you didn't wire something right, or her cerebral circuits are damaged."

"That's impossible," Perceptor stated defensively. "I'm afraid it's not that simple to turn off a logic processor. It has to be surgically removed and that is only performed in the most extreme cases of damage to the unit. The processor is an integral part of decision making on and off the battlefield."

"Why do I need it to make decisions when I can clearly think for myself?" She repeated.

"Before the war you might have been able to get along without one, but now it can be the difference between life and death because of the decreased time in critical decision making capabilities it provides. If you offlined, and it could have kept you alive if you were ever attacked by Decepticons, I would never be able to forgive myself if I removed the processor. Please, try to reason how it can be of help," Perceptor trailed off pleadingly. His optics had dimmed and his face plates showcased a long expression of overshadowing hurt as if he were remembering something spark wrenching.

Eject was uncannily silent, his visored helm looking away from the open display of emotion that stabbed into Livewire like a stake to her chest. "Okay, I'll try to get used to it," she promised. How could she say no?

A small smile of relief flitted across Perceptor's face. "Thank you," he intoned sincerely.

Livewire picked up the almost forgotten cube of energon in both hands and frowned at the contents. She had a sinking feeling she would regret this. _Bottoms up. _She took a large gulp and tried to swallow it before the taste could hit, but wound up nearly dropping the container and coughing instead when it flooded her throat.

"Not so fast," Perceptor softly reprimanded. "Take it slow."

She half hoped this body didn't have taste buds, but the energon tasted about as bad as she expected – caustic and somewhat equivalent to the smell of gasoline.

A final cough rattled her chest. "It's disgusting," she wheezed.

Eject made a chortling sound and slapped his thigh.

"I'm being serious." Energon splashed the table when she set the cube down with more force than necessary.

"You need to consume it. I won't have you living off energon treats like the Dinobots." Perceptor pinned her with a stern, I mean business, look.

She didn't like those glow sticks either, but they were more tolerable than this radioactive vat. The look Perceptor was giving her didn't waiver so she took a small sip and cringed at the full force of the acidity. Slowly, agonizingly, she drained the container until it was empty and Livewire was sure she was going to be sick. Her arms encircled the cube and she hovered just over it, resisting the urge to put her head down as the energon sloshed nauseatingly in her tank.

"That wasn't so bad, a proper refueling was what you needed."

Livewire glared at Perceptor sideways.

"I think it's time to give her the red card." Eject cackled and climbed up onto the table and bent on his knees to look up at her face.

She was five seconds from smashing him into the table with her fist when a loud explosion shook the base. Eject grabbed her arm, and Perceptor stumbled, stabilizing himself with a chair while Livewire held onto the vibrating table for dear life.

Her head shot up once the quake ended and the ominous ring in the air abated to silence. "Are we under attack?"

Perceptor straightened and Eject rolled into sitting position in the surprisingly intact room – a few fallen over chairs the only apparent casualties.

Perceptor helped Eject to his feet and picked up the energon cube that had rolled onto the floor. "Most likely not. There's a 98.5% probability that explosion was a subsequent of Wheeljack." His optics dimmed for a click before he refocused. "Yes, that's exactly what it was. Livewire, stay here. Ratchet will most likely need my help cleaning up the collateral damages."

The minute he was out the door Eject cracked into hysterics and punched the air. "That was the best one in a while - I give it a ten!"

Despite everyone's warnings and aversion to Wheeljack's apparent ability to make things explode, she honestly thought they were grossly blowing things out of proportion. However, if the explosion was as bad as it felt and sounded, maybe he really did live up to such legendary standards.

Livewire used the table to help her stand and Eject ceased his giggling fit.

"Where are you going?"

Admittedly, she was simultaneously a little worried about Wheeljack and curious about what happened at center of the destruction, but felt her presence would only be in the way. Besides, she was itching to get outside and have some time to herself, it might help clear her slowly throbbing head.

"Out," she tersely replied.

Eject stretched his arms high into the air and made a motion of cracking his neck. "I guess sticking around here would be boring. Why don't we go check out the damage? Hey, wait for me!"

Wobbly, Livewire was already at the door when Eject called her out. In a burst of panic she transformed as if it were second nature, folding down to all fours, and took off before the cassette could follow.

In no time the sun softly gleamed off her matte purple armor and dirt caved under her strides as the Ark fell away in the distance. Only when she could no longer see the ship's thrusters protruding from the mountain did she slow to a walk among the scattered trees. Her vents were working overtime, trying to cool her body at an alarming rate. She was beginning to wish she had tried to bolt for the surveillance room to dive under the pile of blankets and get some rest, but the thought of Red Alert likely being stationed just outside the closet made her hesitate. The last thing she wanted was that neurotic mech screaming in her sensitive audials.

Rocks tumbled down a slope in the traitorous mountain range, disturbed by her dragging paws and waking her up to her surroundings. Almost as if on auto pilot, despite only coming here once, Livewire was surprised to see the Dinobot den just below her. She hovered there, torn between turning around to keep to herself, and visiting the cave full of fire breathing dinosaurs. The logic programs were all but begging her to turn around while the human side of her was feeling slightly suicidal. Mentally, she told the logic computer to shut up and half jumped, half slid down the slippery scree slope.

The mouth of the cave was ominously large, dark, and silent.

"Hello?" The greeting echoed over the granite and loose quartz within the confines of the Dinobot's dwelling, no reply bounced back.

Livewire stuck her head further in and was wondering just how deep it went when something large rustled just inside. A loud snort and the scrapping of claws over leaves sent a wave of wrongness rippling over her armor and triggered her battle computer - and not a moment too soon. A black mass roared, charging out of the cave right for her with yellowed fangs barred.

"B-bear?!" She screeched, jumping out of the way and barely avoiding being tackled.

The black bear reared onto its hind legs, standing to its full height, and bellowed at Livewire who was comically taller than the five hundred pound bear - even in wolf form. The animal swiped at her with its powerful claws and the prongs in her back, concealed just behind her shoulders, sprung over her head like bull horns. She fainted to the left, and without thinking, followed the split second command her processor gave her to attack. The bear roared at the electric shock it received and the shallow puncture wound one of the prongs had made in its thick shoulder muscle. There hadn't been enough time to charge up any significant voltage, but it was enough to send the creature bolting off into the woods, crying like it was being painfully murdered.

The prongs retracted, pulling back and pointing upwards before sliding into her back, and her battle computer slowly powered off. Her fuel pump was still racing as it sunk in that she had just been attacked by a bear, and it had been scared of her; she felt almost sorry for it. A mild wave of nausea hit and her posture sank a fraction just before a throaty laugh caught her by surprise.

"Maybe tiny Livewire not so weak, you defend home already like a Dinobot."

Grimlock followed by Slag emerged from tall pines.

"You think so?" She wondered sheepishly.

Grimlock puffed his chest out. "Me know because me say so."

Slag shook his head and growled, "Slag not so sure." Grimlock gave him a warning look.

"Still willing to give chance, though" he hastily added and returned Grimlock's glare.

Livewire was beginning to see the logic in befriending Grimlock before the other Dinobots and silently thanked Wheeljack for his advice.

"You might be strong already, but Grimlock will make you stronger. Come break stuff with us."

A sheepish grin warped by her muzzle appeared. "Is it okay if I take a rain check? I'm not feeling very good and came out here to get away from the Autobots. They were giving me a headache."

"What rain check?" Grimlock sincerely questioned.

Wheeljack was also apparently not kidding when he said to speak to them in the simplest terms possible. "It means saving an offer for another day."

Grimlock crossed his spindly arms thoughtfully. "If you angry at Autobots then smashing things would make headache go away, but you no want to?"

A slow shake of her head made him tilt sideways in confusion and to get a look at her from a different angle. "I'm not feeling good physically. It's that sick feeling that makes you feel achy and heavy to the point of wanting to lay down and get some rest so you can feel better," she told him in the simplest terms possible

"How Livewire sick? Grimlock never get sick."

"I don't know," she confessed. "Can I stay here until I feel better?"

"Grimlock no see why not."

She transformed and waited a moment to gauge their reactions to her humanoid form. When neither Grimlock nor Slag seemed phased or in danger of getting angry and stamp her into the ground, Livewire opened her subspace and retrieved two energon sticks.

Both Dinobots approached her like dogs spotting a juicy steak and waited on her expectantly. "Thanks," she told them and placed the sticks into each of their opened mouths and patted Grimlock's giant snout. "You know, you guys are kind of cute."

Grimlock growled under her touch. "Grimlock not cute, Grimlock strong."

Livewire couldn't help but smirk. "You can be cute and strong, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a complement."

"Well, okay, but only because it a complement coming from you," Grimlock relinquished. "Grimlock cute and strong."

She resisted snorting at serious declaration and patted his nose one last time.

"Goodnight, Grimlock, Slag."

Livewire retreated into the cave, going only far enough to where her optics could adjust to the darkness and reveal a small enclave that went deep enough to hold several Dinobots, but didn't go further than she could see into the mountain.

There were piles of leaves strewn about like beds so she walked wobbly over to the closest one and more so fell ungracefully than laid down in on it. Despite her throbbing head, her systems hummed appreciatively at the rest she was giving her body and she slowly powered down.


End file.
